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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26176255">A War of Conflict and Desire</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiteraryGuild/pseuds/LiteraryGuild'>LiteraryGuild</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Supernatural</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>And they are CHILDREN, Arranged Marriage, Bisexual Dean Winchester, Blonde and Brunette Ruby are twins, Bobby Singer is King's Advisor, Castiel doesn't have a mother, Dean has soldier friends, Dean trains with soldiers, Destiel - Freeform, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Forced Marriage, Forced Relationship, Gay Castiel (Supernatural), Hahaha my pun is so not funny, Implied Castiel/Other, Implied Dean Winchester/Anael, Implied Dean Winchester/Other, Kingdom of Eden, Kingdom of Lawrence, M/M, Medieval AU, Mpreg?, Past Lisa Braeden/Dean Winchester, Prince Castiel (Supernatural), Prince Dean Winchester, Queen Mary is deceased, Roman Britain, Roman Empire ruled by Dick Roman, Slow Burn, Sulphuric Lands, There are female Leaders, There are female soldiers, but with different names, destiel au, it is okay to be queer, prince AU</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 04:15:10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>28,107</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26176255</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiteraryGuild/pseuds/LiteraryGuild</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>John Winchester declares war on the yellow-eyed people of the Sulphuric Lands. Their leader, Azazel, had been tormenting him for a while now, always playing coy and never deciding on whether to truly invade John’s territory, until one fateful day. He really thought that it would never come about, but alas, here they are, in a much worse position than he could have imagined - Azazel having struck at the prime opportunity when the Kingdom of Lawrence was at its lowest.<br/>Sending out a correspondence of help to his neighboring “friends”, only one King Chuck of The Gardens of Eden replies in agreement to his refuge for aid. Suspiciously however, this one ruler has not demanded anything in return as of yet, but this sets a worry in the back of John’s mind since he won't be able to refuse whatever this monarch asks for. But what could a King of a much more powerful and wealthier Kingdom ever possibly want in return? ...</p><p> </p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Castiel &amp; Dean Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester, Gabriel/Sam Winchester</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>26</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Everyone who isn't Us is an Enemy</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Dear fellow readers,</p><p> </p><p>Hello and I hope you are having a great day!! :)</p><p> </p><p>This is my first fic so I apologize in advance for all the cringey writing coming your way. I am writing this as I go along, but I know that it will definitely be a long one, so buckle up and enjoy the ride!</p><p> </p><p>I recommend that you read the Tags, but some could be classified as spoilers, so read at your own risk!! I will say if I make any changes (i.e. add or subtract any tags) though, so I hope you don't mind.</p><p> </p><p>This is mainly a Destiel story. I apologize for the behaviours of some of the characters at the start, but I promise to deliver Destiel at the end of the day. Also, the "Forced Relationship" tag is not as bad as it seems.</p><p> </p><p>Without further ado, grab your tea and snacks, and I hope you enjoy! XD</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>They were at war. Who knew that a small dispute between two kings from faraway lands could cause a battle to commence in full scale, engaging entire kingdoms. There was much at stake here, as with any major battle, yet even the commoners knew how much of a blow this will be to the Kingdom of Lawrence.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>So logically, the wise King John called out to the neighboring lands to seek the much needed aid that Lawrence was in dire demand of if they were to so much as stand a slim chance at getting through this war.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>However, to His Majesty's disappointment, only one of the replies had agreed to act the savior in this time of critical emergency, and the once-friends that John had thought he had in the other realms became quite questionable.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Although, this agreement in itself was relatively unusual and perked his interest because unlike most of the replies he received in the past, it weirdly did not enclose any demand for payment, trade or alliance, just permission to be hosted warmly at Lawrence city's gates and space for housing their soldiers and supplies. The Kingdom of Eden's army would need to set up at Lawrence so that both forces can march forwards in cooperation, and John needed to discuss plans of attack or otherwise with their ruler, King Chuck, anyway, so that is how on this fateful day, the Winchester family find themselves increasingly antsy as they await the infamous Eden company to arrive.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>~</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>"So get this," <em>Oh boy, here we go again</em>, "Eden is so much more powerful than us, their army is of a vaster scale, they have more supplies, and their men are really well-trained in close combat, yet they are going to come here willingly of their own accord to help a weaker kingdom in defeating an enemy which we didn't even know about until three weeks ago, never mind Eden which lies so far south, and even then Dad didn't want to tell us until last minute about his little feud. I'm telling you, man, they are up to some shady business and we will be too blind to notice when they stab us in the back. No wonder Dad was so hesitant in his reply."</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>"Yes, Sam. We know that." <em>He just wanted a quick nap before all the chaos started. Was that too much to ask?</em> "All you gotta do is trust Dad in this, okay?"</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>"Well I don't believe in such blind faith in a man who runs on alcohol and pure revenge. I mean, we don’t even know this Chuck guy, and Dad thinks it’s acceptable to let him under our roof?”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Does this guy ever quit?</em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“You done rambling, kiddo? Because, no offence but you’re kinda giving me a headache, - too much thinking, you know. There are much more pressing matters that you should be worrying that pretty, little noggin of yours about, like the majority of Eden about to turn up at our doorstep.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, about that... Dad wants us to make nice with the Novaks. Said it would help to get to know them a little better since some of them are going to be coming with us to battle and leading some of our men. They are siblings of seven, Michael being the eldest, he is going to lead a large portion of the Edenish since I heard he is really strategic and won the Battle of Winterhell at the age of fourteen when they invaded their land at the time when Chuck was indisposed of. In fact –“</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>He's really not gonna get any shuteye at this rate, is he?</em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“Alright, when you’re done fangirling, I suggest you move your ass and help me with the last of the preparations. I’m going to go ask Dad where he wants us, and check around, see if the rooms are ready –“</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“Hey, don’t you want to find out at least a bit about who we are going to be dealing with for the next few months?”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“No, Samantha, I don’t swing that way. I’m authentic. I’d rather find out how bad they are first hand, so I have a valid excuse in front of Dad. Now get moving and clear up that big mess of yours,” Dean says, pointing to the ever-growing pile of inks and papers sprawled across the library desk, “I expect you to find me in a few minutes, bitch.” And with that, Dean leaves the room in search of his pompous ass of a father.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>~</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>When Dean finally reaches his destination, it is that of the extravagant throne room, in which John is lounging at the sidelines, as per usual with a drink in his hands. At a distance, it may seem that he is simply contemplating the placement of the fruit basket next to the pastries, but Dean has known his father long enough to notice that his face is contorted in a deep ponder, however well he tries to hide it. It’s quite frankly bizarre to see his father like this – long index finger monotonously tapping on the side of the flagon, whether in concern or impatience he will never know. Concealed may it be, the event has gotten everyone riled up, even the prestigious King, so Dean takes caution as he approaches The Lion in as collected a manner as he can muster.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“Good afternoon, Father,” is the firm greeting Dean offers in his attempts to announce his presence, without spooking the wild animal.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“Good afternoon to you too, Dean,” is John’s meek reply without the blink of an eye. <em>Huh.</em></p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“Well, I was just wondering, you know, what you want us to do.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>John takes a long hard look at Dean which just borders the line of becoming awkward when he hears the soft croak of John’s voice. “Make welcome our new roommates. Show them around, share strategies, the lot...” John trails off, the sentence lingering in the air around them, demanding silence, and when John speaks again, his voice seems to have dropped an octave or ten. “I mean it, Dean.” A pause. Dean thinks his Dad must be psychic or something because he seems to have witnessed the internal eye roll that Dean had been hoping would go unnoticed. Alas, his father knows him too well.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“I don’t think you realise just how truly we’re fucked without the help we’re getting. So, I’m just going to lay it out, plain and simple.” He can see the dark storm rolling over the hills of green in his eyes, clouds of captivating terror, and suddenly John is stepping into his personal space. “You are going to go out there and please their extravagant asses for as long as it takes to get us through this war. I don’t give a damn about what you have to do. So, I’m telling you this, man to man, that if you fuck this up for us, that’s on you.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Dean gulps as he hangs his head and replies in a prolonged nod. <em>Wow. What a talk this has been.</em> Sure, he knew this had been coming, but trust his father to spoil the mood right before the guests are due to arrive. As if on cue, one of the lookout boys announces that a large Edenish procession has been spotted just outside the bridge, and actions have taken place to confirm their identity and let them pass.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“We are to greet them at the inner gate. I don’t want them parading around the throne room without clean shoes, so you better hurry up and get outside in five minutes.” Without waiting for a reply, John walks away briskly, strides purposeful as his cape cascades behind him in waves.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>For a while, Dean just stands there too shocked to move but as he eventually comes to, he looks around to see his brother having witnessed the whole affair from the archway, wearing a mirrored expression of dumbfoundedness. Dean’s features harden as he clears his throat and rumbles out a snappy, “What?”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“Nothing.” Whereas Sam would usually be trying his best to hide a smug, devilish grin, now only a faintly amused, slightly perplexed look remains. “What was that for?” he inquires instead.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“I think Dad knows how I truly feel about this situation. Sam, he expects me to play housewife, while he goes off to play the hero in some war we have been trained for our whole lives, and I still can’t be trusted with entertaining the damn guests, because god forbid I misspeak and offend one of those pristine jackasses.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“Dean, that’s not going to happen. I am there with you, you should know that.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“Well that’s easy for you to say. You’ve still got jobs to do every day like accountancy, Mr Master-of-Coin. Things Dad <strong>trusts</strong> you with, so don’t try to tell me otherwise, because you know that between me and him, trust is a one-way street.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“Dean, maybe it’s better if you accompany the guests. Less reason for Dad to get on your back.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“You think I want to hang out with those clowns?”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“It might not be as bad as you think. It could be a great opportunity at creating new connections. The more alliances we have, the stronger our Kingdom is, just please don’t ruin this,... for your own good.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“Jeez, Sam. I thought you were supposed to be on my side. You were complaining not a moment ago.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“That wasn’t complaining, Jerk, it’s called examining the evidence and testifying whether the client’s case is valid or otherwise. I was merely practicing and exposing my skillful attorney side.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“Whatever, Bitch. Dad’s probably wondering what’s taking so long so we better get moving.” And with that the two brothers venture outside onto the brightly lit cobblestone yard, where together they will face the inevitable fate of their lives to come.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>~</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>By the time the two brothers reach King John’s side, most of the Edenish soldiers are filing into the common hall, the horses are being lead to the stables and the servants are carrying large crates and chests presumably full of unnecessary baggage for the Lords and Ladies. They have been stood to attention for a while now, just waiting for the long line of members to come to a close, which didn’t look like it would be any time soon and Dean was getting rather impatient.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“How much longer?” Dean huffed as he tilted his head back in grave annoyance. Sam casts him a look that signals to cease his wailing and if their father had noticed his discomfort, he simply ignored him. He was in the middle of conjugating a complex plan of how to best annoy his not-so-little brother when the sharp jab of a bony elbow pierces his trail of thought and ribcage. “Ow. What was that for?” Dean hisses to the offender.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“They’re here, Dean, and stop being a baby. You’ve got to set an example, remember?”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, yeah, I get it.” He really didn’t. Why did his Dad always give him the worst jobs? One thing he definitely knows though is that these are going to be some excruciatingly long months.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“May I present His Royal Highness Chuck Novak and his seven children,” booms the loud voice of the herald, officially confirming that all of Dean’s nightmares are becoming reality. Dread engulfs his numb, throbbing body as the Winchesters witness each Novak steadily climb out from the grand, colossal chariot emblazoned with sparks of lustrous gold which catch the light with the slightest movement.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>An astute, portly man with a well kept beard is the first to approach them from the vehicle. He almost seems too confident for his slender form, giving Dean the impression that this is simply a false character the man uses to mask his true identity. It’s not long after that a heard of silks and leather accompany the man’s right side, forming a line of immaculate royalty.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“The first-born Prince of the Southern Isles, Michael Novak.” A tall, sinewy warrior bows low at the mention of his name. He is much older than Dean, a thick, dark beard and mop of lengthy brown hair crown his worn, tired face. Deep gashes mark the parts of his profile and muscular arms visible to the eye; a spectacular first impression which leaves Dean ogling in awe. This guy certainly looks like he has at least a few years of experience in battle up his sleeve, and Dean would be lying to himself if he said he wasn’t at least a little excited to hear what journeys this mysterious stranger encountered in the faraway lands.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>The exchange is met with a curt nod from King John, closely followed by a “Prince Uriel” to which a large, burly man in a green tunic adorning long sleeves and embellished with silver thread patterns, steps forward tentatively on matching chartreuse pumps at the aforementioned title. He simply bends his plump neck forwards, a clear indication that this man believes the Winchesters deserve the same amount of respect as a smudge of shit on the bottom of his shoes.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p><em>Jeez, somebody’s happy to be here</em> is Dean’s sarcastic retort dripping with silent disgust, as a shrewd grimace grips his face. Ever the wiser, Sam must have noticed the long list of inaudible cursing racking up in Dean’s mind because a prominent spark of pain (due to the former’s boot contacting harshly with his toes) silences his mind, forcing Dean to focus more on muffling a whine to the best of his ability.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>At least their father has the decency to acknowledge people like this cock-sucking donkey, no matter their place in the hierarchy, which, coming from John, is quite honorable in itself. Never mind, at least it has become very clear as to whom he should avoid in the upcoming weeks.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>The herald commences in listing off another two names after which each respectful title, a scrawny, identical figure claims. A certain “Prince Balthazar” and “Prince Gabriel” bow so deep and drawn-out it almost becomes mocking and Dean ponders whether the display was purposeful. You could tell they were brothers of the closest kind, both donning golden locks and the same petite build. Uncomfortably, they are both also wearing an uniform, uncanny smirk that edges between that of playful and polite. Dean observes the squirming Sam beside him. He couldn’t lie that he wasn’t a bit shaken himself.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>The King regards them in the selfsame polite manner and they meet the first princess of the Novak family. Just like the meaning behind her name, Anna is the epitome of grace. To Dean, she seems like a delicate, angelic butterfly, the wings of her dress almost too fragile as it floats to the ground beneath her, concealing her pale, lean limbs. Truthfully, she scares Dean in her own way at how calm and collected she behaves, making him afraid of bursting the bubble she seems to be floating in.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Anna hadn’t even completely curtseyed when the growingly impatient herald roars “Prince Castiel” in a bored, strident bark. The man inclines in a humble fashion, a sincere look submerged in the deep oceans of his eyes, as he inspects each Winchester in turn. He takes his sweet time, and finally the roaming globes fall on Dean as the prince straightens his posture. Their eyes lock, and Dean’s sure this guy must be a psychic or something because he finds himself in a trance he’s imposed to obey.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Freaking witches, man.</em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Willing his body to finally appeal to his senses, he breaks the spell and moves to the next figure beside him, a tall, stunning goddess fashioned in silks and skins, seemingly carved by Adonis herself. She smiles courteously at the King when addressed but immediately transforms into a lioness as her gaze hunts Dean down and prowls over his body in a murderous blaze. <em>Oh, boy.</em> An inferno simmers under his skin as his throat struggles to contract. <em>What was her name again? Abbie? Anna? No, that’s the other one. Anael? Anael. Well, hello there, Anael.</em></p><p> </p><p> </p><p>The beautiful woman evokes a newfound confidence in him, so Dean seals the pact with a flashy grin of his own, closely resembling his signature bold, cocky nature. He seems to have zoned out because he soon finds himself adorning a virtually busted kneecap by one Samuel Winchester, who when confronted only cringes at the exchange, sporting a look of “<em>Oh-God-get-me-out-of-here</em>” interwoven with “<em>Don’t-you-dare-make-any-move-on-the-princess.</em>”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Before Dean can muster a valid excuse for his actions, he is interrupted by the hushed growl of Sir Robert Singer, Dad’s adviser, from behind, “listen to your father, boy.” Grumbling under his breath, Dean zooms in on the tedious exchange of pleasantries between the two monarchs.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“I thank you for the warm welcome, John. I do hope it is not a bother if we stay for a while -“</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Oh, you bet your ass it is.</em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“ – would be beneficial for both parties, don’t you think?”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“Of course, it would be my pleasure to host the Edenish under my roof. And yes, I agree that this is the opportune time to discuss our plans before we send our armies away. Therefore,” John raises his voice enough to be heard over the clamor and clanging of the folk flooding the city gate and busying around behind the addressed. “My princes and princesses, I would like you to meet my two sons, Dean and Sam, who will be hosting you for the time being whilst your father and I discuss matters of import.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>A general consensus and a chorus of replies such as “yes, your Royal Highness” satisfy both men as they walk away in the direction of the castle, but not before John spares a glance at his eldest and with a rough grunt gestures to the general vicinity of the others.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>No more words need to be spoken as Dean reluctantly steps forward with trepidation, clearing his throat of any second-guesses he might have of the group before him. They all seem to be eyeing him with a corresponding, intimidating look as they await the news of the spokesman.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“Welcome hither, all” Dean raises his hand in a way of warm greeting. “As you probably already know, I am Prince Dean of Winchester and this is my brother, Prince Samuel. We are honored to have you visit the Kingdom of Lawrence and would be delighted if we could personally show you to your rooms, and grant a tour the castle. We hope you enjoy your stay.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Dean prayed to the Gods that it was as efficient of an introductory reception as he thought it was, and that it would suffice. He hoped he didn’t come across as too informal since it wouldn’t help to scare the visitants upon arrival, so he had decided to settle for a friendly, conversational tone. He was not looking for them to become “besties”, but Dean was confident that his superior acting skills alone would manage to trick these fools into some form of obedience and decency. Nobody will disrespect the Winchester family on his watch, Dean mentally affirms as he glances at Uriel.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Having finished his little speech, most of the siblings seem to return to a state of squalor, as siblings do, talking amongst themselves in whispers, or in Gabriel and Balthazar’s case, not so much. He can see how they are going to become an all too annoying problem all too soon. He turns to his younger brother and with an usher of his hands, declares “lead the way, Samuel.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>As predicted, the flock follow the brothers up the smooth, stone stairs and through the dense, wooden doors of the building, finding themselves inside the belly of the main foyer. This particular part of the castle was nothing special, just a plain crossroad that stems off to lead to other parts of the castle, yet something seemed to catch their attention and halt the entire party completely. And alas, Dean Winchester knew what that something was.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Because from their point of view, beyond the large, open inner doors lies the infamous throne room. The very throne room John had coated in several royal colors and embellished every inch with pure, dazzling shades of gold in the loving memory of the late Mary Winchester. Two epitaphs surrounded by fluid, unbroken streams line the sides of the large staircase which leads to a titanic, splendid throne of gold (literally) fit for a King, or what Dean thinks is more accurately for a God. The high ceiling is supported by considerably long, heavy beams which enables the tall, stained–glass windows to bathe the room in a soft, golden glow with sprinkles of floral, spring hues.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Now that Dean takes a moment to truly appreciate what has become of this expanse, he can see just how stunningly beautiful it is.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Just like her. </em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>He likes how the memorial accentuates the little amount of fond memories of pure, honest joy he has of Mary. He also really enjoys seeing the reverent faces of each of the awe–inspired guests. Even Balthazar seems to have shut up.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>A swell of pride fills his lungs as he battles an ache of longing in his chest. He quickly glances over at Sam to see him staring right back, wearing a parallel look of gratitude with something else entirely. Something heavier, Dean guesses, with a much deeper meaning; a look Dean is glad to have shared with Sammy.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Dean inhales a shaky, steadying breath as he collects himself and shifts away from the emotional moment to address the group once again. The corners of his lips lift in unison as he elevates his arms akimbo and says with a warm, genuine smile,</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“welcome to Winchester Castle.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>My apologies for the anti-climatic ending there. I am writing this as best I can :((</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Who is ready for some Castiel POV next?</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. If I look back I am lost</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This is a really long chapter but I hope you enjoy! :)</p><p> </p><p>I kind of gave up with editing because it takes FOREVER so sorry if you find any mistakes.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Winchester Castle looms over their heads; a vast and stunning beast preening in the dull afternoon shimmer at the expense of the stray, ogling visitors. The architecture is stunning;  an astonishing  work of art Castiel is sure must have taken years to articulate to perfection, the amount of care taken into consideration to ensure every minute detail was to the highest of standards for the King, very clear and becoming clearer yet with every step he takes towards it.</p><p> </p><p>Like ravenous animals they wolf down every inch of beauty this one of a kind fortress caters to provide, and when Castiel thinks that it could not get any more meticulous, they step into the main reception area off which doors are flung wide open for the better access to the other castle facilities to which servants are hurrying to fill with boxes and crates, flying from room to room.</p><p> </p><p>Before him through a set of heavy double doors lies the Winchester throne room. If he had thought the outside decorations were pleasing to look at, this interior chamber was glamorous and captivating in its own way. The room blared a shine of mesmerising, golden beauty so overwhelming that there was suddenly too much on his plate.</p><p> </p><p>The most he could do is stare even though all his nerve endings and senses screamed to stop and be polite, he couldn’t help but wonder that this room gave him a sense of feeling, a purpose. It was handing him the reigns of its golden chariot of sunlight streaked with wheels of fire, a message of trust vividly interwoven with subtle hints of hope that he will protect. Castiel cannot help but pay his due respects and promise back.</p><p> </p><p>Their silent exchange was halted abruptly by an annoyingly long set of questions from Gabriel beside him, who, of course, just couldn’t find it in himself to not mither the princes for any second longer, as if immediately starved of attention in that short period of time that he wasn’t talking.</p><p> </p><p>Reluctantly, Castiel withdraws from the magnificent site of the throne room and turns to see Anael holding up a disturbingly worried sign in her eyes targeted Gabriel’s way, to which Cas shoots back a too-curious-for-his-own-good-don’t-you-think-?</p><p> </p><p>Slowly, the congregation sets off again down the narrow, winding route with Castiel hovering nearer to the back and keeping Anael company. They converse about nothing in particular, - the visit so far and likewise –which deflates him with gladness that the usual interrogation is over until eventually, Anael asks the inevitable.</p><p> </p><p>“So... what do you think?”</p><p> </p><p>She drawls out the first syllable on her tongue in a slow, seductive growl and there is no mistake behind who her thought process could possibly be tearing apart right in this instance.  Castiel is determined to play coy and files that thought away for later.</p><p> </p><p>“I believe the castle is rather splendid if I do say so myself, dear sister,” Castiel says in a deadly flat, serious tone. Out of his peripheral he can see the young girl roll her eyes, a look that he seems to see an awful lot when one is pursuing common topics with him. He must admit that his people skills do seem a bit rusty. Exhaling a puff of air, she breathes deeply before huffing a low, “you know what I mean. I am merely seeking a topic of interest for our conversation.”</p><p> </p><p>“And by that I presume it entails inquiring my position on where I stand with the admirable princes?”</p><p> </p><p>A wry, cheeky grin worms its way onto the pretty girl’s face. It didn’t belong there, just like all of the sudden seductive attitude and fake persona the child suits herself up in, to appeal to her desires. It made her age into a mature woman far quicker than to Castiel’s liking.</p><p> </p><p>“I can assure you that they are excellent hosts and will continue to be so in the upcoming weeks. However, my dear sister,” Castiel inhales sharply as he quickly processes the best way on how to break the news, “I’m afraid you cannot advance on the older Winchester without father’s consent. You know how courting works in our case, and I know how unfair this is, but that’s just how the world works, Ann.” An honestly sad and troubled look envelopes Cas’ features as one of despair blooms softly on the girls’ tame face.</p><p> </p><p>“Alright, Cas, I know. I just hate how my life is planned out from the very beginning. Where is my say in this? Maybe I don’t want to go off to some faraway land and marry an old, rich man, to whose my only function is bearing his heirs. Maybe I don’t want to leave my family.”</p><p> </p><p>A sharp stab of pain clenches his chest at hearing the brutal truth laid out by Anael before him. He can’t imagine the hardships that Anael is facing right now, - correction -, he can, and its way worse. But this ignites a new burning hope that one day, when he sits upon his father’s throne, he will change the system, no matter how long he has to wait and that’s a certainty. He will fight for his sisters and brothers till his dying breath.</p><p> </p><p>“Anyway, there’s no harm done if I show that I’m interested, right? Hopefully Dad might think it’s a suitable match and then there won’t be any need to pawn me off like a chess piece.” Castiel throws her a look. “Fine, I know what you’re going to say. That I’m too young, but Caasss,” she emphasises the name with a long whine, “I’m going to turn sixteen next month. Dad promised that he was going to start looking for suitors.” Her bottom lip protrudes, accentuating the pouting face of the moody teen before him. Cas is determined to not give in so easily.</p><p> </p><p>“Yep, definitely too young. Have you seen the age difference?”</p><p> </p><p>“Whatever. When it comes to true love, age is but a number.”</p><p> </p><p>Now it was Castiel’s turn to roll his eyes but he luckily refrained from saying any more as to not crush the innocent child’s dreams. She is too precious for this cruel and dangerous world.</p><p> </p><p>“Cheerio! I’m off to admire my liege prince and future husband from a closer perspective. You coming? I’m a kind person and I like you, so we can share the prize if you like.” Chuckling, Anael winks and turns her back on him without delay.</p><p> </p><p>“No thanks,” Castiel quietly replies under his breath, cringing. A clearing of a throat shakes his train of thought away as another voice announces its presence.</p><p> </p><p>“What’s with the long face, brother?”</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t you have something better to do other than bother me right now? I believe that in this particular moment, on this serene walk, I wish to be left alone and out of your circus tricks.”</p><p> </p><p>“Ouch. Can a brother not have a simple conversation with his fellow comrade?”</p><p> </p><p>“Not without being suspicious or wanting something out of the exchange. I know you too well, Gabriel.”</p><p> </p><p>“Ah, you always were the clever one. But I mean to correct you since this one peculiar time that is not the case. You see,” Gabriel drops his voice to a level of conspiracy. “I overheard Dad talking to the King.”</p><p> </p><p>“When was this?”</p><p> </p><p>“Twas a mere moment ago. None of you jerks noticed me gone when I stayed behind in one of the side closets near the throne room, and that was where I spotted them.”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, what intel did you find?”</p><p> </p><p>“I have successfully reached the conclusion that our father cannot be trusted.”</p><p> </p><p><em>Wow, how helpful.</em> Not exactly new information. Looks like Gabriel’s just trying to get on his nerves again. Not exactly new information, either.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re useless, did you know that? If you’re done wasting my time –“</p><p> </p><p>“But, but, wait... there’s more.”</p><p> </p><p>Heaving a loaded sigh, Castiel faces his nuisance of a brother, and waits expectantly for what is surely another crude joke. Surprisingly, that indeed is not the case.</p><p> </p><p>“Chuck was talking about a marriage alliance of sorts.”</p><p> </p><p>He gulps for air, but its path is constrained as Castiel’s thoughts return to Anael. Worry clenches his heart as he thinks it’s all happening <em>way too soon. </em>There looks to be more news coming his way though, so he refrains from commenting for the time being, despite how hard staying silent may be.</p><p> </p><p>“and I’m afraid I might be going away.”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>What?</em>
</p><p> </p><p>“What do you mean, Gabriel?” Cas inquires in a suddenly serious tone.</p><p> </p><p>“At least someone is, and you’re too young for far distance travels, so it doesn’t take a genius to figure out the rest. Obviously nothing is official yet, but I just have this nagging feeling that my time has come.”</p><p> </p><p>“Can’t it be someone else? Michael? Uriel?”</p><p> </p><p>“Michael is already ruling the Southern Isles. It’s a surprise that he actually agreed with this invasion, but he has a strong economy and trusted members in court to take care of his people while he is away. And Uriel? You know he is a sissy and is going to complain. Why he always sticks like glue to father’s side I will never understand. And would you trust Balthazar to seize some faraway lands, half a world away, on some expedition he will undoubtedly mess up somewhere along the way? Yeah, me either.”</p><p> </p><p>Castiel has nothing to say to that, so he hangs his head down low and accepts the imperceptible fate upon them.</p><p> </p><p>“What, you don’t want me to go? Aw, you’ve grown on me.” Gabe slaps a hard smack on Castiel’s back and replies, “You’re my favourite too.” With that, he leaves a stunned Castiel behind, reeling in a range of emotions.</p><p> </p><p>He is shortly paused as the group stop at a large corridor window with open shutters that looks out onto the sparring yard below.</p><p> </p><p>“Is that a weapons shed?”Gabriel shrieks out in fascination.</p><p> </p><p>“Of course it is, Prince Gabriel,” replies the calm voice of Sam Winchester.</p><p> </p><p>“Dang, Cassie. It’s even bigger than the one back at home,” Gabriel comments, elbowing Cas in the process. It would be a lie to say he isn’t a tad fascinated himself. He had always enjoyed sparring, training on a daily basis and taking pride in delivering swift, strong moves when thrust into action. Maybe it was due to being trained from a very young age, maybe his eagerness should take the credibility, but he has to admit that he knows enough to get through the battlefield, and apparently according to Anna, that was being humble about it. “I’ve seen you train, Cas. You’re amazing.” Being under Michael’s care and granted personal training was and still is probably one of the greatest and most unique experiences that he will forever be grateful for. It taught him the skill of agility, speed and strength, and everything else a knight needs. Obviously he is nowhere near as extraordinary as Michael, but a man can dream, right? <em>One day</em>, he tells himself every night, particularly after a rather extended period of training <em>One day I will be the most respected and noble knight of the whole land</em>. <em>People will come from Kingdoms far and wide to admire my work and pay me respect as I cut down my enemies in a dancing flurry of swords</em>.</p><p> </p><p>Cas knows that it will probably not come true, but he is here for a battle is he not? <em>Whatever</em>, he thinks, at least when Michael puts in good word for him to others, he gets acknowledged.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Oh, shit.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Suddenly a pair of green emeralds are turned his way, making Castiel falter and freeze in his tracks. The verdant groves of luscious forest hint a look of appraise, admiration and intrigue, to which Castiel fails to hide the swelling pride and choking heat that seems to be working its way up Castiel’s neck. He can feel his face redden visibly, to which the older prince only smiles and Castiel cannot help but mirror back, a small, barely there thing but there nonetheless. If at all possible, the Prince’s smile widens even further.</p><p> </p><p>“Looks like I’ve got competition,” Prince Dean says in a light-hearted tone, “you can prove yourself to me someday, if you like.”</p><p> </p><p>“I will be sure to take you up on that offer, Prince Dean.”</p><p> </p><p>Dean looks into both of Castiel’s eyes respectively, an extensive, hard stare that’s almost calculating or forming a plan. Not to be rude, but if this carries on any longer, as always he will be the one who is called out for it, undoubtedly by Balthazar, and he’s quite frankly too tired to put up with that again. Politely, he eventually averts his gaze to Michael, a silent thank-you for the good word, to which he gives a curt, stoic nod, more like a bow of the head.</p><p> </p><p>“Come evening...” he hears Michael drone on, babbling about the soldier training they do back at home, the entire dawn to night routine to which Castiel is more than familiar with by now. Not long after, the two Princes twist back around and walk away together, undoubtedly sharing tac-tics and likewise. They appear to be deep in conversation, Castiel observes, a serious look washing over their faces.</p><p> </p><p>He also observes that a silent, meek shadow has appeared in his peripheral, Anna undoubtedly the patient and kind human being that she is, waits quietly to the side for Castiel to finish his deep ponder. Sometimes Castiel wonders how she is able to stay so collected with a handful of family like theirs.</p><p> </p><p>Anna talks to Cas for a while, but eventually the group succumbs to a spacious, open, sheltered balcony which overlooks the sunny gardens and luscious green meadows beyond, sporting many hilltops and mountain range far on the horizon. The two siblings walk up to the railing together, looking out over the edge and admiring the breath-taking view. He must admit, Lawrence truly is beautiful in its own, northern way and nothing can change that, he recalls, as he is left in shock and adoration.</p><p> </p><p>The group is eventually strayed away from the captivating artistic view and lead to complete the rest of the tour. <em>A shame</em>, Cas thinks. He will be sure to return to this tranquil, secluded spot really soon.</p><p> </p><p>The castle tour concludes just as they reach the guest sleeping quarters. Michael, being the eldest and most notorious, is shown to his mammoth and overly decorated room first. It is a large, dark oak floor space, lit only by the welcoming fireplace save for a small, high window, and Castiel is glad he won’t be spending his days in a dank, manky cellar, even if it is clustered with curtains, fabrics and furs from all sorts of exotic cultures. Located on the ground floor, he guesses it’s for portability and awareness, and that’s probably for the best since Michael is always called upon by their father for various needs like helping with planning the defences, even if he is off-duty.</p><p> </p><p>Next door lives Uriel. The servants look like they have already fashioned his space with those ugly curtains and matching sheets that he insists on bringing with him everywhere. Castiel feels a wrong, hideously seething joy from seeing his brother assigned such a sad, gloomy place. He also doesn’t seem to be the only one, because from the uninterested, bored look Prince Dean wears upon Uriel’s depart, it is clear they share the same opinion.</p><p> </p><p>Further down the tapered, lower floor corridor are two more rooms fashioned for Balthazar and Anna. They are a little smaller than that of Michael and Uriel’s but superior because no other building is obstructing the afternoon light as it comes in through the significantly larger windows. The two siblings walk into their allocated terrain, but not before taking a moment to say their goodbyes. Balthazar being the idiot that he is, walks up to Gabriel at the door frame and salutes a “so long, partner” like he is going off to war. Behind them, a low tired voice mutters “save your remarks for the real deal.” Gabriel, ever the comedian, wipes fake tears from his cheeks.</p><p> </p><p>In the adjacent door Anna pulls Castiel in a warm, tight hug and whispers soothing words of comfort in his ear about how he is always welcome to her room at any time. It really is comforting to hear.</p><p> </p><p>The snug solace is long gone with Anna’s gently clicked shut door when he finds himself among the stragglers of the remainder of the group. It is a little awkward with the heavy silence lingering above their heads, but Gabriel’s insistent chatter fills the empty void soon enough.</p><p> </p><p>In front of them further down the corridor lies a short staircase to which another two rooms lie. On the landing, once every member has climbed the stairs they graciously stand towards the sides, a clear indication for whom these two opposite dorms are assigned. Prince Dean glides towards the one closest to him, holds it open wide and gestures with a swing of an arm for the Lady to enter. Princess Anael obeys the order and rushes into a long cacophonous string of compliments about the space, showering the Prince in “oh my goodness, this is perfect” and “you obtain such skill in interior decor, my prince.”</p><p> </p><p>On the other hand, without wishing to listen anymore to Anael wasting her breath, Castiel strides in the contrary direction and steps into the middle of his room. Strolling leisurely around the dwelling, he details the rather large double bed against one wall with a sturdy oak writing desk beneath the vast window, to his avail, on the other. There is also another door on the far side which undoubtedly leads to a bathroom, Castiel guesses. The room looks bare even with all of his items, clothes and accessories piled in heavy chests against the bulky wardrobe and dresser. Not even the burning flames of the firewood could warm Castiel up to this devoid of space. It’s nothing special, and it’s certainly not home. Castiel finds himself wishing to recline upon his voluminous, feather mattress in the safety of his own room back in Eden. It’s just a constant reminder that they have come to a foreign land to war. A war which should not have been Chuck’s concern in the first place.</p><p> </p><p>He hears tentative, soft footsteps pad over and meet at the doorframe. Prince Sam’s lips are pressed firmly together in a thin, tight line and he hopes aloud that Castiel likes his room.</p><p> </p><p>“I do, Sam. The view is very beautiful up here.”</p><p> </p><p>“Wait until you see it from Dean’s room,” the young prince chuckles reminiscently. It doesn’t look as though he regrets skipping the formalities, letting slide a personal, friendly comment to their conversation.  “Glad you like it.”</p><p> </p><p>Castiel smiles at that. “Thank you Sam.”</p><p> </p><p>“No worries, and anyway, if you need anything, me and Dean are in the eastern wing, - you know, the big, spiral-y tower? You are welcome to drop by anytime.” Sam pauses, considerate in his behaviours before he starts shaking his head, deciding better against it. He settles for “I hope to get to know you, at least properly, soon.”</p><p> </p><p>“Me too,” is Cas’ quiet reply as he smiles at Sam as the newfound companion is turning to head down the corridor. “And...” Castiel starts as a thought strikes him so as not to leave their encounter’s first impressions so mellow. “Good luck with Gabriel. He can be quite a hefty dose of stupidity at times.”</p><p> </p><p>Sam just laughs at that, head tilted back as he tracks down the hall. Satisfied with having made an acquaintance already, he returns to his hideout and begins searching through his chests, making a thorough check that everything is in its place. He could start unpacking now, but he already feels fatigued after the tedious two week journey, so his thoughts immediately yearn for a nice, relaxing bath. Without further ado, Castiel is quick to locate two servants whom he politely instructs to fetch him a tub of hot water in his room. Whilst the bath is being filled, he files through his assortment of clothes, picking out an outfit to wear at the evening meal. This will be the first time that the Lawrencian soldiers will view their family, so he has to be sure that he will leave a good impression on them. Not too long after, Castiel is lowering himself beneath the steaming pool of alleviating water and he allows himself to simply enjoy the feeling of the sparking heat that spreads over his worn, aching body like wildfire on dry branches. He drifts off into a warm, cosy coma as he closes his eyes and allows the numb feeling wash him clean of the day passed.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>~</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>He eventually settled on a long, sapphire blue tunic beaded with silver gemstones and shiny pearls clasped with a black belt; an accurate embodiment of the starry night sky outside his window already chasing away the straggling, remaining embers of dusk. It matched his eyes. Naomi always said it brought out their sparkle.</p><p> </p><p>He had just finished combing through his hair when a loud, firmly pulsating knock rang through the room. He gently replaced the brush and scrambled to open the door.</p><p> </p><p>There stood no other than Prince Dean Winchester.</p><p> </p><p>The two men stood in silence for a while, neither willing to speak or break their reverie, but eventually Cas was able to break away from the hypnotising gaze of green eyes and train his thoughts on the subject matter at hand.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Why on God’s green earth is Dean Winchester at my door right now?</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Logically, the guards should have alerted him if plans have been changed for the evening communal activities, but he is distantly hearing the clamour of cups being smashed against chalices and the merry, joyous laughter bursting his way through the door. Even so, the guards on duty should be escorting him right now, not the bloody prince.</p><p> </p><p>“Prince Dean, may I ask where are the guards?”</p><p> </p><p>In a sheepish expression, the prince looks down at the floor as a tint of colour blooms across his face.</p><p> </p><p>“I thought I could be the one to take you.”</p><p> </p><p>Sheepishly, he clearly distressed prince raises the palm of one hand to the back of his neck. Rubbing back and forth, he hastily spurts out “Well, we kinda have this tradition going, where the king is the one to escort the guests on the first night of the arrival for a massive feast in the great hall, but since my father is a bit busy, he put me in charge of taking care of you lot. And well, uh, I’ve come to get you, unless you wish to be escorted by guards? That could be arranged. I-“</p><p> </p><p>Castiel cuts him off before he rambles on. “Prince Dean? It would be an honour.”</p><p> </p><p>Dean just looks at him for a moment before clearing his throat and saying, “So, if you’re ready, we can go now, because everyone but you is kinda already there.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m not late, am I?”</p><p> </p><p>“No, no, my prince. Just that we’re waiting on you is all.”</p><p> </p><p>At that, Castiel nods and stepping out, twists his body so he can shut the door. However, turning back around, he realises his fatal mistake because he finds himself face to face with Dean Winchester, sucked into another world of fresh, spring trees and meadows of tall grass in his eyes. They share the same air.</p><p> </p><p>Castiel doesn’t even realise how much time has passed – it could be seconds, minutes, hours – when Prince Dean graciously steps back, clearing his dry throat and saying, “Right, uh, lets um... go then.”</p><p> </p><p>At first, the walk down to the ground floor is silent and quite frankly, awkward. Neither look like they know what to say or how to make the first move, just the Winchester prince leading the way while Castiel follows.</p><p> </p><p>“So, uh, Prince <strong>Casteel</strong>, how do you like Winchester Castle so far?”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s Cas-ti-el and I do believe it has been to my greatest pleasure, Prince Dean, but I have yet to explore the rest of the castle.”</p><p> </p><p>To Castiel’s dismay, the prince only shakes his head. <em>Oh, I guess not then?</em></p><p> </p><p>“My apologies, I only thought-“</p><p> </p><p>The prince doesn’t even let him finish the sentence before he is stuttering out a long list of “no,no,no” ‘s accompanied with a look of utter shock and fright.</p><p> </p><p>“Aw, shit. Believe me, I truly didn’t mean it like that, it’s just...” the prince falters in his speech, evidently taking a breath before saying “weird, I guess. Could we like, skip the formalities? I’m kinda used to everyone calling me just Dean, and I definitely don’t act like a prince.”</p><p> </p><p><em>Well, that’s a relief</em>. To be honest, Castiel wouldn’t know what to do with himself if he left without once sparring in that yard. On that note, maybe now is the time to ask about it.</p><p> </p><p>“Alright ‘Just Dean’, call me Castiel, and may I ask if training is at all possible?”</p><p> </p><p>“Someone’s eager,” Dean states raising his eyebrows, hinting. “Your brother, Michael, and I were just discussing that earlier. Said he knew a whole lot on training up the men properly. He mentioned you too, but exclusively good things, I assure you. Apparently, he believes you will do well since you are his best knight, am I correct?”</p><p> </p><p>“You stand correct in saying that. But I must say that I have heard many valiant stories about your gallant self in knighthood, am I wrong?”</p><p> </p><p>“Ah, it’s nothin’.” It’s the prince’s – <strong>Dean’s </strong>turn to be embarrassed, clearly not wanting to or unused to hearing the compliments. <em>Interesting.</em></p><p> </p><p>“It can’t be nothing if I have heard it halfway across the continent. And anyway, I could do with a different sparring partner.”</p><p> </p><p>At that, Dean’s smile returns and they go on talking about light, conversational topics, easing the walk with a light-hearted atmosphere. Before they know it, they have reached their destination and are approaching the great hall which casts the dark corridor in a dim, yellow glow.</p><p> </p><p>Both princes seem to slow as they reach the small side door, both quite aware of the inevitable fate upon them. Dean, being the first one to get there, turns around in one swift motion to face Castiel fully. Unfortunately, Castiel doesn’t seem to notice until he accidentally walks straight into Dean. Stepping back and muttering a profuse apology, Dean seems to catch his eye and hold on dearly like he doesn’t want to, and even seems afraid of letting go. Castiel only feels obligated to follow, and that is how they let the minutes slip by, sucked into the depths of each others’ eyes, not having a care in the world.</p><p> </p><p>Suddenly, blasts of trumpets signalling the arrival of the King alert them back to reality.</p><p> </p><p>“Shikes,” Dean says, looking behind him through the slightly open door, “well, it was nice talking to you, Cas,” and he runs off before he gives him a chance to respond. Stunned at the use of a nickname, it takes a while for Castiel to get a grip on himself as he tries to fast-walk to his seat at the table, situated between Anna and Gabriel.</p><p> </p><p>They all stand upon the King’s arrival, and are quickly allowed to return to chatter amongst themselves. Other than Balthazar standing for no reason to toast nobody in particular and the odd joke from Gabriel, it’s boring. He would rather go to sleep in his warm, comfortable chambers than be present here, but since this feast is in their honour he shall stay for the celebrations. Even better, he would rather carry on his conversation with the buoyant prince.</p><p> </p><p>At least he doesn’t have to wait long for food to arrive. Dinner is served – a myriad of all types of dishes you could think of. The second course brings even more variety onto the table and the third fills their stomachs to their maximum capacity. Whilst distracted, he takes a moment to gain his bearings and look at his surroundings. Looking down the long table, he sees that most seats of honour are filled by his family, but some are indeed left empty; the spaces for the few lords and ladies of Lawrence who couldn’t make it tonight because they were too tired.</p><p> </p><p>Further down the table he sees the King in deep discussion with his father, undoubtedly about war tactics, Michael being one of the few trusted with dad’s plans, so that is why he is seated next to Chuck, who looks over for his son’s approval every once in a while. On King John’s side follow his two sons who seem to be talking – even laughing with an older man of higher status than a normal lord. Upon closer inspection, the man brandishes a shiny, metal pin on his chest stating that he must be John’s loyal and most trustworthy advisor.</p><p> </p><p>Observing the men in the hall below, he sees many already beyond drunk and he wonders if there will even be anyone sober left by the end of the night. In addition to this, as the insignificant tickle of a bell is sounded, he also sees some of the Lawrencians are quick to punch the loud Edenish soldiers to silence who are not yet familiar with the custom, causing said laughter to die in a fit of sputtering coughs as the increasingly louder ringing causes King John to ascend above them all. A blanket of deadly silence falls over the hall, sealing all secrets within just like the heavily barricaded double doors.</p><p> </p><p>“We are gathered here today to celebrate the union of our two forces. The Edenish,” the king raises his large chalice currently clutched in his right paw in the men’s direction, “and the Lawrencians.” The king repeats the action. “As you should already know, we are approaching the battle sidelines very soon, and war is fast approaching. We must not lead astray in such dire times, so let us put aside our differences and become the men of war our grandchildren and their children will talk about, so we may live again for centuries more. So come my fellow soldiers, I invite you into my home today, so we may strengthen our battlements and soon raid those bastards off the outskirts and banish them to perdition for the rest of eternity. Who. Is. with me!?</p><p> </p><p>The room erupts into a roar of agreement. Satisfied at getting his point across, the King nods at Chuck and the two Kings leave the room side by side, abundantly. Upon their leave, the room fills with loud chatter once again and reverberating, cheery music fills Castiel’s ears.</p><p> </p><p>“Well, that’s my queue to leave,” says Balthazar standing up and at the same time draining his glass at once. He skips off and disappears into the crowd, probably trying to find some poor girl to hit on, or guy for that matter. Castiel just prays that the Edenish will not be as foolish to fall for Balthazar’s antics.</p><p> </p><p>Michael is quick to excuse himself, claiming his need for rest in order to deliver his promise of starting soldier training at sunrise. Uriel is also quick to follow in his brother’s lead, and reclines to his room because he feels too tired. Castiel feels almost jealous of them, but he knows that somebody has to look after Gabriel and Balthazar one way or another. With a loud, sarcastic huff, Castiel reclines in his seat, happily to just watch the fun from afar, when Gabriel starts poking the flesh of his forearm.</p><p> </p><p>“Come on little bro, you really think I’m gonna screw up? It’s only a few cups, and besides, I don’t need a babysitter.”</p><p> </p><p>“Last time you said exactly the same thing, and you were so drunk, you plummeted 15 barrels in the winery and you ended up sleeping in the stables.”</p><p> </p><p>“It wasn’t that bad... okay maybe I was a little drunk but that doesn’t mean you can’t have some fun in your life every once in a while. Besides, what are you gonna do?”</p><p> </p><p>“I just thought I’d sit here quietly.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, right.” When Gabriel realises that Castiel hadn’t been joking, he huffs out a forced laugh like he was the funniest joke he’d ever heard, and Cas was the only one who didn’t get it. Somehow, probably by the glares Castiel was shooting his way, Gabriel knew his arguments were a lost cause, so he only settled with, “Aw man, you’re no fun. I’ll leave you to sulk in your own misery, then.” Gabriel storms off, grabbing blindly at an entire flagon of wine off a nearby table on the way down, to which he gets a few cheers and slaps on the back. And so, the celebrations carry on as the night wears on.</p><p> </p><p>Castiel and Anna talk sensibly with each other and Anael eventually scoots over from the end of the table after seemingly having grown tired of turning down nearly every man in this room.</p><p> </p><p>“I never took you as one who would miss the opportunity to dance with such fine Edenish men.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh trust me, I want to alright, but I have my eyes set on one in particular.”</p><p> </p><p>Castiel follows her gaze and lands on no other than the green-eyed, freckled beauty. Dean is talking fondly to Sam, probably telling some joke or other because soon after, Sam keens over in a wheezing chortle. As if feeling three pairs of eyes on him, Dean looks up with the trace of a huge grin plastered across his face and meets Castiel’s eyes. To Castiel, it almost looked like his eyes sparked with a brightness, but that could have been a trick of the light, because to be fair it is a highly illuminated room.</p><p> </p><p>Castiel quickly averts his gaze and turns back to his sister. He knows that there won’t be anything in his power that he could do to stop the inevitable from happening. But when that does happen, he will promise to be the best big brother to Anael and support her and all of her decisions, so he does the next best thing: “Go get him, tiger.”</p><p> </p><p>The flat statement holds no true meaning behind it but Anael still abruptly leaves them with a wink and prowls over in her iconic hungry stance.</p><p> </p><p>Dean seems to match her gaze and looks back at his brother almost as if asking for permission to which Sam only shakes his head in disapprovement. Anael drags the giddy prince away in a hiss of whispers and giggles. Castiel can’t help but feel a pang of... jealousy? What is wrong with him? He knows the older Winchester prince is out of his reach, and besides they both look so happy together and even better as a couple. Shouldn’t he be delighted at other people’s happiness? His own sister’s? He feels disappointed in himself and something of a small pout must have shown on his face between the sulking because Anna picks up on it immediately and hushes him in a sharp, strict whisper, like she is cursing a misbehaving child.</p><p> </p><p>“Castiel, you know it’s not possible.” She tuts when she realises she isn’t going to get a reaction out of him and approaches with a gentle, hushed but genuine “I’m sorry” instead. The words are unspoken but he knows exactly what Anna means by them. I’m sorry you can’t be with the people you want to be with. I’m sorry you can’t live a normal life. I’m sorry you’re not normal. At those two words, the whole world around him seems to come to a standstill. Never has he heard Anna talk with such sorrow, especially taking the context into consideration. His older sister is one of the few people who actually knew about his struggles, besides Gabriel and Balthazar, except with him you never know if he is joking or not. Gabriel seemed to know from the very beginning and always grew incredibly serious, something Castiel thought someone like Gabriel would never be able to achieve, whenever this topic was approached between them. Quite frankly, Anna just seems to not care. Being a bastard child, she never set finding a partner as her priority, clearly quite content with focusing on her training, Chuck helping as far as allowing her into discussion within the map room. She practically lives in her leathers. But although she will never be a relative by blood, she will always be there for him, through thick and thin, supporting him and all his princely decisions. That is the truly special thing about family. No matter what happens, even if the world comes crashing down around you, you can turn around and there family will be waiting for you, welcoming you home with open arms and warm smiles. Well, at least that can be said about his siblings. His father, not so much.</p><p> </p><p>Resigning to his unfortunate reality, suddenly a wave of awful fatigue washes over and consumes his sagging, limp body. As if reading his mind, Anna leans to his side to say, “It’s alright, I can handle them. You go get some rest now,” and on a second thought, adds, “you need it, you look awful,” a final blow of the brutal truth. Castiel grimaces but inside he is grateful for an honest person like Anna, someone who can ground him when reality escapes him.</p><p> </p><p>He stands up and if all the royal lessons spent stuck in the high tower taught him anything it’s to never leave without speaking out your gratitude. It’s just common courtesy. So, that is why he is now making his careful way over to the youthful Prince Sam, currently perched on the edge of his seat, likely keeping a lookout over every man in this room. Wisdom and morale runs within his body language, making the prince age beyond his years and Castiel is glad to have made his acquaintance.</p><p> </p><p>Sam seems to sense him before he is even close.</p><p> </p><p>“Hello Prince Castiel. Is anything the matter?”</p><p> </p><p>“Good evening, Prince Samuel. A little tired is all, so I shall retire to my room if I may.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, okay.” Prince Sam is only wearing a worried expression until a thought occurs to him and he changes his strategy of approach. “Well, do you mind if I hold you back for a while longer.”</p><p> </p><p>Castiel highly doubts they have anything pressing to talk about, but then again, that is the beauty of intelligence because how could Castiel refuse the Winchester host’s presence? <em>Dammit</em>. He knew he walked in on this one.</p><p> </p><p>“Of course I don’t mind, my prince.”</p><p> </p><p>Sam gestures to the empty seat beside him that was previously taken by Sir Singer, who is currently preoccupied in a game of experimentation of how many flagons of wine the human body can hold. He seems very determined on winning and sharing his findings.</p><p> </p><p>Once Castiel is settled, Sam holds out two cups for the serving girl who was waiting against the wall to fill them up and promptly holds one out for Castiel. He takes it with an expression of thanks, but refrains from voicing any other thoughts. Sam isn’t seeing the need to talk, just sitting back and observing, maybe sipping on his wine from time to time, so Castiel ties up the ends of any conversation starters that he might have had. He lets himself relax a bit, reclining in his seat a little more than usually acceptable and lets his eyes roam. The floor is filled, the maids who have finished their chores for the night join the cluster of masculinity and all is a joyous free entanglement of limbs as everyone dances with one partner, then another. He spots Dean within that compressed crowd as well, swaying merrily with his sister, as they whisper dirty promises into the other’s ear with only the low hanging moon to bear witness outside. It’s a rather appealing sight to look at. Anael hooking her long, slim palms onto those strong, broad shoulders, always a pleasant smile upon her swollen red lips when within the prince’s perimeter.</p><p> </p><p>A curt scoff is enough to awaken him from his thoughts. “I knew it,” is all Sam has to say to have Castiel enveloped in a flood of red, hot embarrassment at being caught staring. He really should know better when it comes to Sam. It kind of makes him feel as if the whole silent exercise was on purpose, and he shouldn’t be surprised if it was, but Castiel is too busy trying to cover up his mistake to dwell on that much longer.</p><p> </p><p>“My apologies, Sam, I mean well-“</p><p> </p><p>“Save your apologies for the rest of my family, the Winchester King is hard to please. So, my brother caught your eye, huh?”</p><p> </p><p>Castiel knew there was no getting out of this one. The battle was already lost when it came to an opponent as clever as Sam. All he could do was deny and pray to the Almighty to answer his silent, pleading prayers of final resort. In all honesty, there really was the slightest chance that he could just slip out of Sam’s tight grasp and get away with it. His Aunt Amara always did say that he was an excellent actor. In a final desperate attempt he decides to put on the refined mask over the years of practise when lying to his parents and try his best in his effort to fool Prince Sam. Somehow, Castiel doubts that anyone could.</p><p> </p><p>“Prince Sam, now why would you think that? I am simply so pleased that my younger sister can finally find the happiness she deserves.”</p><p> </p><p>In Sam’s confusion, there is a hint of doubt in the shades of his pupils. It is an expression he knows all too well, one of incomplete sincerity of belief, one he believes clever people like Samuel and Amara must have in common. Time to bring out the real weapons of strategy.</p><p> </p><p>“I mean, aren’t you happy for your own brother, Sam?” The stress on the direct address sets something very personal in his mind; Castiel can literally see his thrown brain working, cogs turning, questions burning. Sam is shocked into silence but Castiel has the higher ground and like the tactical leader that he is, he doesn’t plan on stopping now.</p><p> </p><p>“You know, our family has been through so much, I know it might be hard to understand...”</p><p> </p><p>The explicit and purposeful pause has the desired effect and Sam is quick to fill it with, “no you don’t have to explain yourself, I get it. I mean, our family hasn’t always been on the best of terms either, so I know now that we should have put in a little more effort to save what little we had left of each other.” Sam rambles on, relaying all their family arguments, but the good times too. It is actually a rather comforting conversation to have, and Castiel feels all his worries slightly fade as they share their familial recounts of recent years, like when visiting the countryside, the fun, busy market when it’s set up in the summer, and other trips around the kingdom. Castile almost feels guilty for fooling the younger man, but he figures Sam still has many years to learn. Besides, they are both really eager to learn about each others’ kingdoms, so they both promise to describe every minute detail of their favourite places, monuments or landmarks. It awakens Castiel’s fond desire of visiting the entire Lawrencian Kingdom. And that is how the night passes by, the two princes sitting together peacefully, smiling at the fond memories brought forward from the hidden, buried crevices in their minds.</p><p> </p><p>Sam is in the middle of describing the time Dean left a rotten fish in a poor trader’s cart, when in their fit of laughter they don’t realise the shadow that has crept up on them from behind.</p><p> </p><p>“Alright bitch, it wasn’t even that funny.”</p><p> </p><p>“Hey Dean,” Sam sputters between chokes of laughter, “How did it go with future Queen Winchester?”</p><p> </p><p>“Ugh, don’t tell me about it.”</p><p> </p><p>At that, Sam reels back a bit in confusion as he puts on an inquiring look of disbelief as if asking to politely elaborate. Taking that as his queue, Dean proceeds to list off all the bad habits that seem to displease him. “Well for one, she is like <strong>really</strong> clingy. I can’t even go for a piss alone, and when I try to talk to Benny, she won’t let go of me. Two, she drones on and on about herself and women-ey stuff, like I seriously don’t need to know about her collection of perfumed water-“ Dean easily rolls off a few more elaborate reasons off his tongue while Sam’s face contorts into bitchface #42. He exchanges a look of apology when he meets Castiel’s eyes, and decides to end this humiliation before the older Prince embarrasses him further. Sarcastically, Sam clears his throat in an unnecessarily loud way, which is thankfully enough to shut the other Winchester to silence. Inquiringly, Dean looks at the source of disruption but all he needs is a single flick of the eyes upwards in Castiel’s direction for realisation to register and his eyes widen in utter shock. “Aw shit. I need to stop doing that.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, you really need to watch what comes out of your mouth,” Sam scrutinises.</p><p> </p><p>Dean hangs his head in shame but it is gone in an instant as he schools his expression to a cunning smirk and says, “I can think of many things I’d like to watch go <strong>in</strong> my pretty mouth though.”</p><p> </p><p>Sam just rolls his eyes at that and gives him a reproachful look. Understanding that probably a change of topic is best, he tries again with less enthusiasm, desperate to send his brother away so they may have some alone time once again. Usually, Castiel isn’t one to crush other people’s dreams, but it doesn’t look like that might happen any time soon.</p><p> </p><p>“Well, did you’re dancing skills impress her by any chance? And by ‘dancing skills’ Cas, I mean a duck can walk better than he can. I nominate Dean to show you, it’s hilarious.”</p><p> </p><p>That seems to be enough to get a reaction out of him at having his bowlegs called out on. Castiel would love to join in on the fun, but he has a queasy feeling in his gut to abort because he is approaching dangerous territory here. And, as per usual, his gut is right.</p><p> </p><p>A dangerous drunk thought, as he knows all drunk thought to be, seems to occur to Dean and an increasingly widening grin replaces the grim expression from beforehand. Castiel doesn’t know how much wine the older prince has had but he is definitely tipsy, bordering on drunk. Castiel has a nervous feeling that this might not go as planned.</p><p> </p><p>“Then let me show you. I would like to ask the Edenish Prince for a dance.”</p><p> </p><p>The atmosphere around them comes to an abrupt halt as Sam and Cas share a look of confusion. The lighthearted tone is gone instantly and instead the air is laced with awkwardness. <em>Way to kill the mood.</em></p><p> </p><p>The two brothers are sitting in silence, one very proud of himself and the other almost scared of the Prince’s reaction.</p><p> </p><p>“Well I am incredibly sorry but if you don’t mind, I’m feeling rather tired right now so I think I might head to my room.”</p><p> </p><p>Castiel wasn’t quite sure, but it almost looked like Dean’s eyes dimmed, immediately losing their brightness as rejection caught them before they bursted out of their sockets with hope, almost as if Dean didn’t want him to go, but then again, it was probably a trick of the light. Without another word, Castiel bode the fellow princes farewell and wished them a peaceful night of rest. When he leaves their presence, he feels empty, like he left a part of him behind in the process. It brings about an ache in his chest and he longs to go back there, to get to know these people properly, the men he will soon be fighting alongside. Because that’s what this truly is, right? Two kings penning a flock of men in one barn, readying them for slaughter on the battlefield. As much as Castiel wishes this not to be true, he knows he can’t deny it. That is why he knows he shouldn’t be getting carried away with some stupid celebration, a pretentious parade of toasts to a better life, when in full spectrum, they are just cheering on the execution of their own heads.</p><p> </p><p>His running thoughts are interrupted before he even gets halfway across the floor of swaying bodies, as a strong force pulls his arms back making him swivel and stumble into a solid, warm chest. He grabs onto the fabrics hanging loosely from the figure to steady himself but it hardly helps him keep aloft as the warm solid flesh starts violently shaking as a low bellied, loud rumble of laughter erupts from deep within said chest. It has a distantly familiar ring to it and Castiel droozily lifts his heavy swimming head as he takes into account the sharp angular face the soft full lips and the constellation of freckles in bursts across skin amongst valleys of green. Suddenly, realisation slowly fades onto his face as he acknowledges the not-so mysterious figure standing before him, only a few inches apart.</p><p> </p><p>“My apologies Prince Dean, I don’t think I saw you there.”</p><p> </p><p>“No worries, you could almost say what a coincidence,” Dean replies, stifling a chuckle. “May I ask for one dance?”</p><p> </p><p>He doesn’t even give him a chance to reply before he is being dragged away by the wrist and lead onto the floor centre, interwoven like a puzzle piece between the claustrophobic crowds of swaying bodies in time with the music. As if on cue, the tempo of the strings changes to a more upbeat, festive tune and the men and women alike fall into step with a traditional folk dance. Castiel acknowledges that this activity would be more fun if he actually knew what was happening in the whirl of colours and spinning lights.</p><p> </p><p>“Prince Dean, what are you doing?” Castiel tries again.</p><p> </p><p>“Well, I thought you looked a bit lonely there. I didn’t want you to miss out on the fun.” The prince joins both sets of hands together and gently pushes one backwards as to guide Castiel to follow the correct moves. The melody of violins is upbeat enough to attract lots of attention, so it is not long after that they are twirling at a steady pace among a flurry of fabrics, gowns and boots. Regretfully, he can confidently say that he feels the wine kicking in. He has no idea how Dean isn’t throwing up right now.</p><p> </p><p>“Aren’t you too drunk for this?” Castiel tries to politely ask, but all condolences seem to fly out the window as fear grips all his senses for worry if he will be the one to throw up tonight and that certainly won’t be a pretty sight. He wouldn’t want to be the one to ruin the party.</p><p> </p><p>“Not drunk enough,” comes Dean’s simple reply. Castiel struggles to keep his face free of any signs of worry and horror as he tries to not read into that statement too much.</p><p> </p><p>As more people join, they are literally swept away, linking arms with merry strangers or conjoining palms in an encirclement of tapping motions. The music is increasing in tempo now, Castiel trusting his feet to guide him out alive through the maze of arms, gowns and handclaps. His legs are on the verge of tripping as he spins uncontrollably fast but there doesn’t seem to be anyone nearby he could latch onto until the music is reaching its peak and he is falling into the strong, comforting warmth of royally-clothed arms. His head is spinning and he feels the nauseous rise of bile emerging but the weight of Dean’s arms wrapped around his shoulders is enough to ground him. The music comes to an end but Cas is too lost in Dean’s eyes to take notice. A few people knock into them as the large crowd navigates back to their tables and splits off to rest for a while from the vigorous jumping. The musicians return the soft mood with the hazy sound of strings and the hall returns to its chatter. As if simultaneously agreeing that it’s probably best to get out the way, they snake around the general cluster of people, still conjoined at the arms, keeping to the sides and out of sight as much as possible. Dean is leading the way, but glancing back with a shit eating grin every few seconds, as if making sure Castiel is still following. Castiel can’t help but smile back. To be honest, even if Dean’s grip on his arm wasn’t deathly tight, he doesn’t think he could deny the prince now. He doesn’t think he’d want to.</p><p> </p><p>They successfully leave the room without causing any suspicion and only once they are out of the suffocating crowds does Dean release his arm. Castiel hates to admit that he misses the contact.</p><p> </p><p>“Sorry about that, I was curious and in desperate need of a dance partner,” Dean says while chugging down a gallon of wine he had picked up along the way. He drains the cup to the last drop and leans over, swaying to each side as he fails to keep his balance.</p><p> </p><p>“Um... sure,” is Castiel’s tentative reply. The entire turn of events was over so fast, he feels like he must have been dreaming - he is sure the wine had something to do with it. Confusion is still rattling his knocked brain when he spots Dean gazing into an abyss of nothing as his dark, hooded eyes fix on the floor. A frown overcomes his features as he fails to orient himself, holding out an arm’s length to steady his falling body but failing, and soon Castiel finds himself embracing a dazed, intoxicated prince.</p><p> </p><p>“Woah...uh, Prince Dean? I think you should...uh, maybe go-“</p><p> </p><p>“Casssss,” Dean whines lifting his frail, limp head, emphasising the last syllable as if saying the whole name is an immense feat due to slurred pronunciation and tongue twisting letters indicating that he has had too much to drink. “I thought we were on a... first. name. basis,” Dean sasses, “besides, the niiiight isn’t even oooover yet.”</p><p> </p><p>“It is for you. Now get to bed Dean Winchester, you promised me training on the morrow.”</p><p> </p><p>“I did not.” Dean pouts whilst straightening his posture in his best efforts to look imposing. Well, as straight as he can in his current state.</p><p> </p><p>“How about: I agreed to a dance, so you must promise me something in return.”</p><p> </p><p>“Only if you tell me a bedtime story.”</p><p> </p><p><em>Excuse me?</em> This son of a hellhound really has the audacity. “Dean, you are to go to your room or I’m calling for Sam.” Castiel worries his bottom lip. He doesn’t know how far he can take the threats before he is going to offend the literal host that has graciously given him and his family a place to stay. He hopes that he isn’t being too forward with the elder Winchester, since he is still a prince after all, and future King for that matter. But the man just grumbles and turns on the balls of his feet to follow the order.</p><p> </p><p>Dean walks five steps before turning around once again distracted, and Castiel has to refrain from rolling his eyes as he wonders if he will even succeed in getting this stranger into bed. It’s usually easier than this, but then again, he would be using other methods... Who knew it was so hard to put Princes to bed? No wonder Chuck gave up a long time ago.</p><p> </p><p>But this time, Dean looks on with a sadness to his eyes, a hint of remorse sprouting with the growing greenery, like he is seeing Castiel fully, in a different light for the first time. Castiel doesn’t think he will ever grow tired of that look. It’s surreal how they both seem to clutch with desperate strength, clawing with digging fingernails at the last hairs of hope that the night will never end. For the moment to last forever; a memory frozen in time.</p><p> </p><p>But it is gone too quick, gone like the wind. Dean is the first to turn away, leaving Castiel as cold as ice in his wake. It is the precise moment when reality hits him in full speed like a train heading full force down a track of spurning. The point when Cas finally realises the true mistake, the one who was truly in the wrong here was him. The crushing denial that this shared memory never happened between them, never came to the surface of their world. A withered seed in the infertile soil never to bloom again.</p><p> </p><p>Because that’s what it is, right? Rejection, regret and denial.</p><p> </p><p>Castiel stands rooted to the spot as he watches on as the capturing, breathtaking man strides away, with a false pretence yet still managing to leave behind a warm, longing presence in his wake.</p><p> </p><p> Then quietly, as his shadow grows along the wall and eventually fades into the distance, he adds to the empty darkness, the ghost of a presence “you are going to regret this come dawn.”</p><p> </p><p>For it is true. A fact - one Castiel cannot deny. He has spent his entire life phasing through paths of righteousness, only to be let down by this world each time. The judgemental glares, the whispered comments, the appalling faces of disgust. It’s unfair. It’s unjust and horrible to be cast down by society, just for one’s family history. Sometimes, despite being a royal, he feels like he is treated like the worst scum in the city, a burden to society. Especially today since their arrival in Lawrence, he has received so many looks of pure disgust he should be ashamed. But at least back in Eden, the people seemed to accept him, seemed to ignore him as a way of dealing with the problem which in all reality was more than he could have hoped for. Yet the rumours about The Prince with the Runaway Mind seem to have reached this land fairly quickly, desperate to not leave any details out despite his father’s best efforts in disguising them and burying the lies within the deep layers of the earth.</p><p> </p><p>Castiel had always just learned to ignore them as best he can. It was never a real bother to him what other people were saying about him or the Novaks. However, he found his temper harder to control when they involved their mother. Where are the manners? Where is the respect when talking about the dead?</p><p> </p><p>When Castiel’s mother had passed away, the young boy had suffered through his grief by becoming a little less talkative, unenthusiastic and hung out in his room all day. He still acted normal and relieved all his worries on Anna and Gabriel and they are still close to this day, but her death changed his life forever. He had silently suffered like that for two years, spending his early teen years in a state of perpetual frustration; Chuck never really knowing what to do or how to handle it. He eventually agreed to getting help from the outside like this was some sort of serious matter, but he did physically and mentally improve, happy to return to his family and finally feel well again. He is sure that the rest of his siblings had suffered equally horribly, but he guesses that as the youngest to have understood the situation to its greatest scale, it just showed the most visibly. He admits that he is still somewhat affected by the death now, but he is better now, has moved past it, and is living a stress-free life right now. Well, as stress-free as it gets with the upcoming war that his father had voluntarily thrown them into.</p><p> </p><p>The other stress-free aspect of his life is that people tend to leave him alone. You can look at it one way or the other, but Castiel gladly takes it as an advantage. Even though he is healed and the doctors claim him to be completely normal, others are in outright disbelief that this could be possible. Because how could the boy born to the womb of a mentally crazy woman ever truly be normal again, especially since he broadcasted his episode to the world?</p><p> </p><p>The secret was just meant to live in their inner family circle, but as much as he hates that people are nosy and cannot keep to themselves, he feels oddly glad that it came out to the public earlier on rather than later in his life. He knows that people like to talk, always gossiping about the state of his health; it’s just at times confusing. I mean, it’s not even like it was that bad. It was a depressing point in his life, not acting “crazy” like his mother at all, but the uneducated townsfolk as always seem to have their own opinion on everything. It has come to Castiel’s attention that he has also come to terms with what he is seen as in society, what his true form looks like under the scrutiny of the public eye, and he is at peace with himself. He can deny and abuse and scream his lungs out until he is starved of air but that won’t do any good. It won’t change the past. It won’t change people’s opinions of him. It won’t change anything.</p><p> </p><p>Resolutely, Castiel humbly accepts the fate that has been built around him, for it is very unlikely to change. His legacy will forever be the Lonely Prince, who will live out his years imprisoned in a high tower like the truly “mentally-ill” person he is. He will be alone for eternity. Everyone always leaves him.</p><p> </p><p>Yes, he may have allies, but everyone knows those come from contracts and treaties in a community effort to keep the peace. He has had a hard time believing that any friends will ever stick around after what happened. After most of the townsfolk found out about his past, the families of his two best friends kept their sons from playing with the prince, and it obviously worked because he had no right to impose any rules upon them, despite his calm protests in trying to get them to see that there is nothing wrong with him. Half of the village swear by witches, curses and the supernatural, that it’s almost laughable. So obviously most of the commoners still think he is cursed, born to a witch or something. He would find it amusing if it didn’t hurt so much. If it restricted him from making connections with outsiders. If it prevented him from being sociable. If it meant not being able to live out a normal life by even limiting talking to other people.</p><p> </p><p>In all situations, he obviously tries his hardest for the other to stay, but inevitably the truth comes out one way or the other and they are either advised to stay away or decide that of their own accord. It’s frustrating, but also the sad truth. Being a responsible adult now though, he seems to have accepted this also. Does it really matter if people only approach him if they need to inform him, ask for something or use him? It’s not like anyone ever finds his company interesting anyway, so is there really a difference?</p><p> </p><p>In all honesty, he would prefer to stick with his brothers and sisters. Every person he has met after that point in life has been a pain, annoyingly undermining and approaching with caution like he is a ticking bomb. That’s why he is forever glad to have Anna and Gabriel. They see him for what he truly is, they know his internal struggles and they don’t judge him even if they hear rumours about him all the time. But then again, they are officially informed of his condition and are intellectuals of some sort (Gabriel not so much) so they obviously know that there isn’t anything wrong with him.</p><p> </p><p>Well, except for one thing...</p><p> </p><p>Apparently Castiel is the broken one, the odd one out among his siblings. Never having to spend time with another girl had been a gift and curse and had worked up until last year, when Chuck had probably deemed Castiel fit enough for starting a family of his own. Forcefully he had been made to court at least half of the wealthiest girls in the Edenish Kingdom which didn’t even turn out too well. There was one instance in which Castiel was paired with a pretty young thing called Hannah and they had been together for a whole six months before it all fell apart. The poor girl was really eager – even stood bare in the middle of the room once as to catch his attention – but he didn’t see her as anything more than a friend and it utterly broke her. Don’t get him wrong, he can acknowledge somebody else’s beauty, but the romantic feeling was mutual, and since that day he swore never to be in a relationship again. He always ends up hurting the other or himself, and he can’t take the ongoing glares from Chuck again.</p><p> </p><p>The only benefit from the whole ordeal was the awakening and acknowledgment that maybe he just doesn’t find the opposite sex attractive. In fact, he is pretty sure that the first time he came out was to his brother Gabriel completely by accident, but he was good about it, completely not acting like Gabe at all. Afterwards, they had a soothing long talk about his situation and together they worked out a few solutions. He couldn’t really stay in a lasting relationship with anyone, and as heartbreaking as that might be, he knows that it will most likely cause Chuck to get suspicious. Ruling out relationships completely might work but only because he knows that he allowed Anna to focus more on her training, and to be quite completely honest, that is his best shot, but his father had been nagging at him for over a year now, and there is a slightly higher chance that he might not get away with it so easily. Gabriel had been so nice as to go looking outside the village for research of his own accord, and when he came back with intel he told Castiel about a few cases in the neighbouring villages further up North. He told him about a few couples who married in pairs, and then all agreed on secretly seeing each other outside of their marriage. Of course this was unfaithful in the eyes of the Gods and literally broke all the rules in existence, but Castiel wishes he could find someone else that he could possibly do this with. Of course it’s common knowledge that when all the men go off for the annual hunting trip in the summer season or will soon inevitably go to war, the girls like to have a bit of fun, but they are all in it together, so none of them snitch on each other. They keep the secret to themselves and even if Castiel tried to pry some information out of them, none will own up even if it is by the Prince’s command. With the men, it’s a lot different. They also screw around and it is well known among them all that the men of lower rank fuck each other for entertainment, out of boredom or otherwise, especially after a really long period of war when they sit around doing nothing all day while lords and leaders like Castiel himself work their asses off reviewing and strategising their plans of attack. He surely isn’t looking forward to the jokes or rumours circling around camp when they inevitably go to war. The thing is, even if he wanted to take one of the soldiers to bed, he wouldn’t be able to. Edenish custom says that royal marriages are to be the union of both sexes in order for there to be peace and no gender bias when they are on the throne. It is a stupid rule to protect the people from having to follow unfair rules if the monarchs decide to impose some gender biased rules to follow. But should you really be on the throne if you command such infidelities?</p><p> </p><p>Yes, they aren’t getting married after a one night stand, but it would certainly be seen as unrighteous if they are caught. So that is the story of Castiel’s life. No wonder Gabriel is surprised he has survived this long, but then again the years have made him rather grumpy and act “with a stick up his ass.”</p><p> </p><p>“Just stick it in a hole in a place nobody will see you,” he says, like it’s that easy. Maybe his brother just doesn’t pay attention to any of the hundreds of servants and handmaidens that busy around the castle grounds. It’s not like any of them pay attention to them anyway. Unless you’re a certain prince who is looking out for a secluded spot in which to relieve yourself of sexual desires. If he brought some outsider into the castle, then there would surely be at least one person who would spot them and inform his family. Besides, bringing them into the bedroom is a definite no go but he is running low on options. Masturbating in the stillness of his own bedroom works for only a short while; it’s just not the same as having the heat of a heavy body pressed against him.</p><p> </p><p>Well, it’s not like he’s ever had the chance.</p><p> </p><p>He is a virgin to the purest extent. He has never come close to any man even friendship wise after his rumour got out, and he utterly refused with girls. He would get teased by it, sure, but he never let it affect him. He knows the men like to joke about, but those words never truly mean anything. They will forget about it in a few weeks time and he won’t be mentioned again until the next season they’re out hunting together again.</p><p> </p><p>Anyway, the point is, as much as he would love to pursue his interests with somebody else, he knows it will never come true. What is more problematic is that he hardly is able to hold onto a good friendship anyway, which is what is worrying with the Winchester brothers. Sure, he likes to think that tonight had been great and he had made some actual progress with becoming somewhat acquaintances with both of them, but he is afraid he doesn’t know for how long that will last. It’s concerning him that he could as well make a fool of himself or some unforgivable action and once more deter anymore friendship out of this Lawrencian family.</p><p> </p><p>That would be a shame. He had already grown fond of Sam, having somebody else to talk to other than Gabriel or Anna who doesn’t give him dirty looks. He actually enjoyed his time with Dean too, once he got used to the spinning moves and nauseous feeling, even though it might not have looked so. Then again, he doesn’t know how long that will last until one of them finds out about his past.</p><p> </p><p>The complex analogies and wishful thinking is enough to send him into a swirling haze of messy thoughts and headaches. That’s enough thinking for one night, so he decides to head to his room because it is already past late.</p><p> </p><p>Without further ado, he spins on his heal and turns his back on any thoughts of the Prince and the interesting turn of events of the night. Drowsily, he trudges down the now weirdly long corridor, concentrating hard on putting one foot in front of the other as to keep from toppling over. Eventually, the narrow, dark corridor comes to an end but the tremendous, tedious feat has left him feeling fatigued so he leans a hand on a nearby wall so he may catch his breath. Except instead of his hand touching the crumbling plaster, his fingers meet with the hard sturdy wood of Anna’s door.</p><p> </p><p>There is a bright, golden glow emitting from a slither under the frame, so Castiel hopes to find Anna in case he accidentally misjudged the room to be someone else’s in his alcohol induced haze. Mustering up the courage, he straightens his posture as to look as sober as possible and he raps three long hard knocks on the plank’s centre.</p><p> </p><p>As soon as Anna opens the door, he is scolded and ushered inside like the no-so little child that he is. It’s kind of sweet how she cares so much for him, and he wouldn’t mind it if it prevented him from pursuing his plans all the damn time.</p><p> </p><p>“CAS! Are you drunk? I thought you weren’t going to drink that much tonight, you swore by it yourself. Look at you!”</p><p> </p><p>“I may... haaave... gottennnnn... a bit carrrrried....awwway.”</p><p> </p><p>“A BIT? You are going straight to bed young man. Here,” Anna spits, flinging a clean towel at his face. “There’s a bathroom just through there, get cleaned up. I’ll get someone to fetch your bed clothes for the night, and you’re sleeping with me under my watch.” As if hearing Castiel’s silent protests and colourful curses, she adds, “no excuses,” with a strict finality to them.</p><p> </p><p>With an audible huff, assisted with the roll of eyes so high they would have reached the ceiling, he turns towards the direction of the adjacent bathroom with reluctance in his step. <em>Ugh</em>. Everyone always bosses him about like he doesn’t have a mind of his own. Maybe they actually think his mind has ran away somewhere ever since that incident.</p><p> </p><p>Stepping into the bathroom, he shoves the towel in an empty basin near the washing station grumpily strutting into the centre of the room. Looking around, it is a rather spacious bathroom, one Castiel thinks is way too generous for a guest. He also notices that the tub is already full with searing, scented water, probably reserved for Anna but out of the goodness of her heart she must have given up her ‘me-time’ for him. Castiel feels a sly smirk work its way onto his face as he proceeds to lock the door and strip the wine-stained clothes from his aching body. As he lowers his sore, aching flesh and allows himself to loosen his tired, aching muscles, he shuts his eyes to the world and lets the worries of his world drift off into the water, lets the heat sap all the pain away, as he floats into a meditating headspace, one he hasn’t realised he needed until now. Words can hardly describe the high, care-free feeling of having no worries or objections to worry about, to finally let go of the burdens of today and the days to come in the short hour that he can spend by himself. The time passes too quickly before the water has turned cold, and the candle is just a mere stub glued to the dish, the flame dangerously close to snuffing out as it flickers its guttering flame every second, a sure warning that he has already spent too long in there. He really can’t help it. Castiel makes haste with drying and changing for bed.</p><p> </p><p>Returning to the room, he finds Anna in a clean robe already tucked sound asleep in the large, comfy bed. The glowing embers of the slowly dying fire envelop the room with a nice, aesthetic atmosphere, hugging Castiel with softly spoken whispers of safety, comfort and tender love. Quietly, trying his best to not wake the sleeping angel in the bed right now, he tiptoes across the room to his side of the enormous bed and lifting the comforter, climbs in eagerly, the faster to get out the contrasting coldness of outside the warmth of under the sheets. But it seems as though nothing can get past Anna, like she is an all knowing being of the universe, as his sister stirs and drawls out sleepily a, “heya Cas, you done already?” accompanied by a long, wide yawn. Castiel tucks himself safely in one corner, quite content to just fall asleep like this when he feels the slither of a small, slender hand slide up the length of his shoulder and twist him round. A muffled sound voices “come here, you” as he lets himself be tugged at until he is buried against her frail, flat chest, Anna perching her chin atop his crown of hair. Settled in, he whispers a feeble “Goodnight Anna,” into the still night darkness of the room. Silence imprisons his words for so long that Castiel thinks she has fallen into a peaceful slumber, when her hot breath tickles the hair on his forehead, carrying the slow, slurred words of “Night, Cas,” so quiet, he almost can’t make them out. Sometimes, Cas is surprised he isn’t seeing a vision of an angel before him.</p><p> </p><p>As the moon rises high in the clear night sky, the prince lies still as the warmth spreads through his thoughts and he falls asleep to the soft hushed breathing of his dear sister beside him. He feels safe under the covers, like a child hidden from all the monsters of the outside world. It is no secret that he is starved of affection so he naturally upon instinct reaches out for the one motherly figure in his life who is the saviour of his nation, the knight upon a white horse.</p><p> </p><p>But as night fades into dawn, he falls asleep dreaming of other knights in the battlements fighting bravely among green fields and valleys within clear orbs of hypnotising power.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Dean POV next.</p><p> </p><p>Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoy the story so far!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. In the End Words are just Wind</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Quick Chapter Update! This Chapter is not as lengthy as the previous one, but I hope you enjoy!</p><p>Special thanks to Alex for beta-ing the ending for me!!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Screaming. He can hear screaming coming from far away, then the harsh slam of a door and fast, repetitive thudding. That’s all he can register before he is thrust into reality, the excruciating noise preventing him from returning to his dazzling, azure dreams. Seriously, they really need to soundproof the walls. Upon closer inspection of this surreal event, it seemed to come from around this side of the castle, but sound travels and besides, it’s early dawn when not a single life form dares disrupt the stillness of the dewy morning so he would hear it even from the other side of the city. Maybe he shouldn’t trust his own judgement. He should be used to it by now, it’s not like anyone does.</p><p> </p><p>Grunting, he shifts his heavy body but the cacophonous echoes are on constant repeat as they ring inside his head, making it impossible for Dean to return to his slumber. Reluctantly, he drags his limp, catatonic limbs out from the warmth of the blankets as he succumbs to the decision that waking up would be the most suitable course of action.</p><p> </p><p>Chronologically, he resolutely washes himself at the sink and fetches the neatly folded clothes, crisp and pristine lying on the side, already picked out by the maids. Gratitude reminds him to thank the women later since he has recently been too busy to take much notice as they have been a part of his regular regime since he was a young child, but if basic manners and tedious etiquette lessons are anything to go by, he knows he should appear pleasant to everyone if he wants to be a successful king in the future. That’s what John has been bothering him about lately. All “you need to know how to handle the public son,” and, “listen to me and you’ll go far.” What does he know? All Dean wishes he would be worrying about is which tavern to visit next or which Lady he can enrapture with his charming personality and contagious smile. Not memorising the layout of his city, every entrance and exit or preparing for a war his father started in the first place.</p><p> </p><p>At times he thinks that John was never a child, just born into this world suffocated by the mask of vengeance disguised in the form of the fatherly face he sees now. It’s not like Dean was ever a child either. Must run in the family.</p><p> </p><p>It seems as though the nasty morning alarm has set him in a terribly foul mood. Pair that with the annoyingly banging headache and nasty hangover which makes his head swim and stuffs his ears with cotton. He mentally takes note to go visit Rowena the glamorous local herbologist who will surely give him a remedy for the disgusting state he is feeling right now.</p><p> </p><p>Hurriedly, since he already feels bile rising up his throat again, he waves Benny off and whirs down one set of stairs cautious as to not up-heave last night’s dinner when he literally flies into Sammy. If his brother’s long, gangly arms hadn’t stopped and caught his torso in time he would surely be sprawled across the floor carpet right now. Fiddling with one of the tassels on his wrist must have distracted him enough that he hadn’t seen Karma’s lingering shadow on the edge of the hallway as his distracted self must have spiked her interest.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh hey there, Dean. You’re up early,” questions Sam.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah well, some douchebag couldn’t keep quiet at this ungodly hour and disrupted my beauty sleep. Seriously, if I find out who did this they are gonna regret ever opening their damn mouth.”</p><p> </p><p>Vividly, he smiles at all the horrifying ways he can punish someone flashing through his mind that will make them regret every life decision they ever chose but before he can get too far in his immaculate plan, Sam halts his train of thought.</p><p> </p><p>“Huh, so you heard it too?”</p><p> </p><p>“’Course I did, Sam. Nobody goes back to sleep after hearing that in the morning. And don’t give me that you-should-go-to-sleep-earlier crap. I’m just not a morning person, okay?”</p><p> </p><p>Storming off, Dean stalks away in the opposite direction and Sam has to double his strides to catch up.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>~</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Arriving at the great hall, the princes take their allocated seats at the relatively vacant, bare table. Looking around, there seems to be quite a few members of the court missing today and Dean can’t help but wonder as to why. Certainly they have appeared earlier than usual, but he wouldn’t put it past him that at least some royals should be up at this time.</p><p> </p><p>Spotting a drowsy Garth stood post at the small side door, he strains a loud murmur which is gladly enough to catch his attention. The guards aren’t really supposed to be talking on duty, much less to the princes, but Dean is desperate to find out <em>what the hell</em> is going on so he speaks hastily before the King makes his presence so as not to get his favoured friend in trouble.</p><p> </p><p>“Psst. Garth, hey buddy, do you know what’s going on? Why is it such a freak show all of a sudden?”</p><p> </p><p>Watchful, Garth nervously flicks his head both ways, tongue darting out to wet his cracked lips, extremely wary as to not get caught. “They’re sayin’ somebody’s done somethin’ real bad.” He drops his voice lower into a conspiratorial gossip and Dean has to strain his ears to hear him properly, “somebody’s going to hell, that’s for sure. It’s an unforgivable sin.”</p><p> </p><p><em>Damn</em>. The guard hasn’t even relayed the full story to them and he silently admits he’s already a bit shaken. <em>Looks like some poor bastard’s in a whole lotta trouble.</em> The surprising news silences him enough that Sam catches on before him and asks on his behalf, “well, who is it?”</p><p> </p><p>“From what I’ve heard it’s got somethin’ to do with some maid. The poor bird must’ve seen somethin’ she shouldn’t have because she won’t speak to anyone. Just sits there cryin’ her eyes out.”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Well, that’s unfortunate.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>But what could have happened to lead a young girl so reluctant to speak out? What had she seen? Most castle business is kept under highly strict circumstances so none of the servants know even a glimpse of their plans. Also, they have locks on their doors for a reason. True, Dean never chooses to lock his door, but he has never had a reason to. In fact, the more sensible it is to keep it unlocked so that he can escape the room in the event that he doesn’t meet the same fate as their mother. Their mother’s demise is still a fresh wound on his heart so he doesn’t talk about it much. He likes to keep it bottled up on the inside, all the anger at the cruel world pent up to the brim. Inside where he can keep everything under control and put on a show when he needs to. Inside where there once was a bright soul now lays a gaping hole, leaving behind the broken shell of a man.</p><p> </p><p>Absently, Dean lets his eyes roam about the room when he targets a rather dishevelled looking Prince Castiel heading their way. He is wearing a smooth leather tunic that reaches his fabric clad thighs and adorns a dark mane of wild, untamed hair. The paleness of the pants and long sleeve undershirt works well in contrast with the black high boots and polished belt. He looks striking and Dean feels a guilty spike of jealousy brew deep within him that he is allowed to wear such fetching regular leathers while his father commands him to walk around like a foolish mascot in a regal dress all day just because he is the crown prince. In addition to his staggering appearance, this is also the first time that Dean is seeing Castiel without the standard Edenish robes, but he secretly confesses that he prefers it if he wore the complementary blue tunic all day. Maybe then he wouldn’t feel like the only jester around.</p><p> </p><p>The man joins them at the table after permission to take the seat adjacent to Sam. Currently, he is occupied with trying to fasten his tan shirt correctly, fingers fiddling with the strings until Sam grows irate and helps him. All three are silent as Sam ties the piece together with a limp bow and Cas runs shaking hands through his unkempt hair in his efforts to smooth it out. He only proceeds in failing miserably and disarranging the messy strands even further. The sudden urge to run his fingers through it and fix it for him is strong and Dean has to physically focus his mind on the task at hand to prevent himself from reaching over.</p><p> </p><p>“So, what’s the news?” Sam asks, breaking the tense silence. Confusion settles across Cas’ face until realisation clicks into place and fear replaces his eyes. Immediately<em>, </em>his body seizes up and Dean can’t say he has ever seen a look of such intense, concentrated terror upon the Prince’s features. It’s worrying and Dean has a wrong feeling in his gut that whatever he’s about to hear is not going to be pretty.</p><p> </p><p>Resignedly, Castiel deflates in his chair, clearly unwilling to speak about the matter, the touchy subject surely haunting him. Reluctantly, he musters, “uh, well it was one of the maids.”</p><p> </p><p>Under his breath, Dean voices, “yeah, we kinda got that already,” loud enough for Sam to hear who promptly elbows him in consequence. He was getting impatient and quite frankly he just wanted someone to tell him <em>what the hell was going on</em>. Calmly, Sam is determined to try again.</p><p> </p><p>“Okay, and? I mean, do you know what happened?” Sam corrects himself. Once again, Cas is hesitant in his reply.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes,” is his simple answer. The brothers exchange a look that says what-the-hell-is-wrong-with-this-guy, both quite confused at the fellow prince’s behaviour. A beat passes between them and when Dean thinks they aren’t going to get anything else from him, he speaks in a sad, guilty tone, “the young girl is fine, I assure you but it might take a while for her to realise the truth. Please hear the verity from our point of view, I promise it was a misunderstanding. I fully understand if I cannot grace you with my presence any longer, however I hope you would be considerate enough to not judge the rest of my family upon my actions. My apologies but I truly did not take into consideration the Lawrencian custom, I must say I should have familiarised myself with them beforehand. I take full responsibility for what happened so upon a sinful man’s dying wish could you please leave my sister from any harm. It has truly been an honour to have personally met you both and I also understand any punishment that you may wish to inflict upon me. I will take what I deserve but I am afraid I-“</p><p> </p><p>Cas is interrupted by a harsh tug on his sleeve from a raging redhead plonking down heavily beside him. The man in question turns away and sharp, quick whispers follow, just out of earshot. Annoyed, the agitated woman has flames in her eyes as she gradually raises her voice and repeatedly smacks her brother’s arm lightly in between each sentence like a misbehaving child. The whispering voices grow louder until they aren’t strenuous to hear.</p><p> </p><p>“...You need to apologise though. I don’t care what we have to do, I am taking you to her whether you like it or not. We have to convince her it is not what she saw.”</p><p> </p><p>“I know, but I already tried Anna. You saw how she reacted when I tried to confront her...”</p><p> </p><p>Simultaneously the two brothers lean in to one side as to better hear the heated argument currently exchanging between the siblings.</p><p> </p><p>“...besides, I am convinced everyone knows by now so there’s no point. She already woke up half the castle this morning and woke up the other half in her efforts to tell them the news.”</p><p> </p><p><em>So it is linked to the rude awakening they heard this morning.</em> It’s bizarre and Dean can’t think of a single reason as to why his two castle guests are somehow connected to the maiden.</p><p> </p><p>“You can’t give in! They can say whatever they want but I am going with you, whatever your punishment might be.”</p><p> </p><p><em>Punishment? </em>If the two siblings are scared that they are going to receive harsh consequences they are truly mistaken. How bad can it be? At most they might get strict word from his father but nothing major that they should seriously worry about, so why is there a twisting, nauseous feeling in the pit of his stomach that this is a problem on a whole other scale as he takes in the mirrored fright in each pair of blue eyes.</p><p> </p><p>“Cas, you listen to me. Don’t you dare think that what they are going to start saying is true. It’s not and you know that. You are the kindest, bravest and smartest person I know and nothing is going to change –“</p><p> </p><p>Unnecessarily loudly, Dean’s chair scrapes against the hard stone floor producing an unpleasant grinding sound that earns him attention and bitchface #17 from Sam. He can’t help it if his legs are cramped and he needs to stretch. So what if maybe some of his chair scrapes across the floor in the process and simultaneously causes the desired effect on the others?</p><p> </p><p>For the first time that morning, Anna’s eyes land on Dean and then narrow at Sam. Quickly, she affirms a mental decision and grumpily grunts out, “We are incredibly sorry for being such terrible guests, my princes, but you must have heard what happened this morning and I just have a few things I need to sort out. You know, I hope that since you have heard Cas’ side of the story, I would truly appreciate it if this could stay just between us. Of course, feel free to inform your king if you do not feel that way.” The last sentence comes out bitter and icy cold, the perfect sarcastic punchline to shut anyone up. It’s an intriguing side of Anna that Dean has never seen before, so unlike the fragile princess he came accustomed to upon their first meeting. <em>She really knows how to get her point across, huh.</em></p><p> </p><p>Dumbstruck, Dean sits deadly still in his seat, so Sam proceeds the conversation, starting with, “actually, we were just getting to hear Cas’ point of view just now.”</p><p> </p><p>Disbelieving, Anna scolds the young prince with a, “you mean you haven’t told them yet?”</p><p> </p><p>After getting no response other than a blank stare, she utters, “well, you better get a move on then, or I guess I will.” Leaving no time for judgement, she turns more fully so she is seated sideways in her chair, the better to project her voice so she won’t have to repeat herself. Straightening his body, Dean braces for the event that he has been internally dying to hear out of curiosity this entire morning.</p><p> </p><p>“Okay, so as you know, last night there was a lot of wine and somehow Cas decided it would be a smart idea to go heavy on the drinks despite having been told not to and prior promising that he wasn’t going to drink more than a cup.”</p><p> </p><p>Sam snorts at that, his sign of silent agreement of hearing the exact same story from Dean. <em>Whatever</em>. If he could remember, he would surely tell him it was a fun night except there is nothing but a black, empty void in his memory designated for those few dwindling hours at the end of the night when he was basically unconscious, completely unaware of his actions due to his intoxicated state.</p><p> </p><p>“So there Cas shows up at my doorstep, barely standing upright, when I specifically told him to get some rest.”</p><p> </p><p>Hearing the scowl she receives beside her, she adds, “and I was in my room because I got Lord Zachariah to take your brothers to bed if they got out of hand. You don’t have to handle everything yourself Cas,” she says in a sweeter voice, “and that includes this.”</p><p> </p><p>Reproachful, Castiel gives a gloomy, sorry look to the group for their involvement in the matter, to which instead of enduring another smack on the forearm, he is met with the gentle, supportive caress from the understanding redhead. However, this just makes Dean more anxious despite having the opposite, calming effect on Castiel, because now he is just preparing for the worst. Patiently, the two brothers wait for Anna to bear the news, the final blow of the ugly truth.</p><p> </p><p>“I see Castiel so intoxicated that he is struggling to walk and, you know, would you let him out again to wander the halls like that?”</p><p> </p><p>Satisfied, she is met with the acceptable, small shake of the head by Sam so she starts up again, this time taking on a tired, pleading stance. “So being the kind, caring sister that I am, I let him stay the night and you can probably figure out the rest from there. What a nasty shock it must have been for the woman who walked in on us at the break of day.”</p><p> </p><p>Thinking there is more to the story, Dean waits in silence but the pause stretches on and Anna has already turned to stare hard at her cold breakfast. Confusion muddles his mind as he replays the story in his thoughts, seeking out the horrid, sinful deed that has managed to get his guests so worked up over. Unimpressed, Sam glares daggers his way and he is about to give in when suddenly it all clicks into place.</p><p> </p><p>A ray of realisation dawns on his face, but despite working his mouth open and close a million times a minute, he doesn’t seem to be able to produce any general vocal sound. I mean, what is he expected to say when he hears something like that? In all truthfulness, they should be scared with what people might say if they hear some sick, twisted version of the story. In the eyes of the Church, to say it is a crime is an understatement. <em>Damn, they are in some deep shit if the court ever learned what happened</em>,<em> even if they only shared a bed for one night. </em>Dean is more than glad to not be in their place.</p><p> </p><p>But as green eyes race to meet with sad, blue ones, he swears to stick by their side and help out in any way he possibly can and they will start by dealing with any false accusations first. It would be the least he could do as one of the available representatives of Lawrence.</p><p> </p><p>It must have been far too long a moment that Dean sits staring and speechless that he must have caused a great deal of unnecessary worry on their part; even Sam shifts uncomfortably in his seat. Determined to relay his decision, he shakes off his reverie and meaningfully replies the long awaited response of, “Alright, what do you want us to do? We need a plan of action if we don’t want the entire castle to have heard the story by midday.”</p><p> </p><p>The stiff, tension seems to seep out of the atmosphere as all three sag in relief at Dean’s answer. <em>Ridiculous. They really thought he would go and spread some meaningless lies about his own guests?</em> That would certainly not be princely behaviour and as much as he may hate someone, he knows to put all differences aside when striving to be a moral host.</p><p> </p><p>Blindsided, Anna carries on, “oh, you needn’t worry about anything else, my princes. I have already talked out what I can with the washer women and spoken to the Edenish guards. I specifically told the men to go to each member of the court and apologise on my behalf for the disruption. They were to deliver a whacky story as to why they might have heard a scream at such an early hour.”</p><p> </p><p>“And the women?”</p><p> </p><p>“Let’s just say we had a friendly talk between ourselves.”</p><p> </p><p>Unexpectedly, there is a stifled snort from between them as Castiel explains, “by that she means she threatened to slice their throats in the night if they ever told a single soul about today’s events.”</p><p> </p><p>Chortling, they join the cracking joke and Dean is glad to have eased the agitated tension between them. It’s the second time he is impressed and rather shocked at Anna’s personality, but it just proves to show that he should really get to know this family better. Sensibly, it should be his top priority to make everyone’s lives easier and it would at the same time get the king off his back, Dean thinks as his thoughts return to the cold conversation they had yester afternoon. However, more positively, he silently admits that he is feeling more than a little excited to show his guests more of the Winchester way of life, and in turn learn about theirs, incredibly eager to start this possible new friendship. He already has a feeling that these two are a few of the better siblings, easier to get along with, but under no circumstances will he judge others by gossiping tales of young girls. Besides, that’s what he’s expected to do anyway.</p><p> </p><p>“The only thing that I would kindly ask you about is if you could get your men on board with it too,” Anna says on a more serious note, “that way, everyone follows along and nobody gets suspicious.” Anna finishes with a cheery, fake grin that emphasises her mocking pretence of an innocent young princess, but who in reality has many tricks up her sleeve, the ultimate gift horse.</p><p> </p><p>Sure, Dean is glad to be of any help he can to make his new guests as comfortable as possible but he is still curious as to how this even came about, I mean, he has got to ask just to make sure.</p><p> </p><p>“Okay, but um...” Dean clears his throat as he buys time to think of how to phrase the next awkward question properly. Soon enough, Dean finds that there really is no way to word this comfortably. “You err... didn’t um.... do anything, right?” Dean tries to leave it on a hopeful, positive tone but fails miserably in comforting the targeted audience.</p><p> </p><p>“No!” Anna shrieks as the two siblings simultaneously tilt their heads in a calculating but also horrified manner. Cas looks up with glassy, depressed eyes which makes Dean regret ever assuming the worst in the first place. He can’t help being a pessimist.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m sorry! I shouldn’t have assumed-“</p><p> </p><p>“Well, you assumed wrong,” is Anna’s frosty retaliation, as piercing and numbing as the sharp mounds of arctic glaciers in the North. Stormily, like a vicious force of nature, she stands in a raging vex of frustration and dashes away without another word. She leaves an icy presence in her wake, leaving the three boys speechless. Sam looks incredibly uncomfortable, edgy and restlessly shifting in his seat but never knowing how to proceed. Overcoming the initial shock, Castiel stands hesitantly, torn between the choice of going after his sister or staying, but he is quick to make a decision and promptly leaves in silence. Dean follows his form until Castiel reaches the door, at which despite being free of any obstacles, there is something holding the man back. Slowly, he turns his head for a final look behind him and meets Dean’s shattered and anticipating eyes across the hall, but the hopeful blue ones are gone before Dean can react. Sam fixes his brother with a glare so intense it could set bushes aflame upon contact.</p><p> </p><p>Bewildered, Dean reluctantly returns to the cold, bland food on his pristine plate but the sustenance tastes like ashes in his mouth and does little to quench his thirst for things to have gone better this morning, as he is left to dwell upon his actions in the company of Samuel’s silence.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>~</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>The following day is spent under the scrutiny and watchful eye of Anna Novak. In all honesty, he isn’t that much surprised. She is a protective sister, just reinforcing that committed role, and Dean would have done the same. Well, maybe except her complete disregard for his painful attempts at apologising and making it right. On her part, it’s a little exaggerated but once this girl gets an idea in her head, she doesn’t let go.</p><p> </p><p>Chasing her around the halls had proven of much difficulty and at a loss of what to do, Dean heads to the library where he finds Sam peacefully enjoying the tranquil quiet as he consumes the third volume of <em>An Alchemist’s Guide to Exotic Items and How to Use them Correctly</em>. That is, until one lousy, impatient brother blasts through the door, waking him from his soothing, meditating trance.</p><p> </p><p>“What now, Dean?” Sam replaces the heavy book upon the small stool, next to the armchair he is lounging on directly before the fire. The blooming days of summer choke out the remaining life of chilly spring but sometimes the strong season relapses in a final push before it takes its last breath and is banished for good. As Dean enters the room, he brings with him the howling winter storms in full force. A dark mood quickly settles upon the room like the frosty fallout of flakes.</p><p> </p><p>“You know, I’m trying my best while she sits upon her high horse and tells me I’m not good enough. I must have pissed her off personally but I just don’t know how, and since you’re such an expert I could use a little help here. Anyway, screw her. And screw you. You go off and leave me to deal with all this horsecrap.”</p><p> </p><p>“Okay Dean, but you’ve got to know that you can’t abandon all hope and quit the job. Dad assigned these people under your care and no matter how much you want to walk out that door, it’s your responsibility. Now tell me, what does she say exactly?”</p><p> </p><p>“Well... she said to stick my meaningless apologies elsewhere. That she should never have trusted me, but Sammy, I’ve not told anyone. What have I done to deserve this kind of treatment?”</p><p> </p><p>“Maybe she doesn’t see it yet. Give her time to realise that you haven’t and aren’t going to tell anyone and in fact, want to help her. I have observed that she is quite the independent lady so give her the freedom and respect that she has fought for. I have a feeling that she is too clever to stay angry over such a petty little thing like this for long.”</p><p> </p><p>“Man, why do girls have to be so complicated? It would be so much easier with a guy.”</p><p> </p><p>Shaking his head, Sam tries to discreetly rid himself of delving into the deeper meaning behind that sentence. “Great idea, you should go talk to Castiel about it. I mean, you only approached Anna, right?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, only because she won’t even let me anywhere damn near that guy,” Dean grunts out, anger starting to bubble inside him again. “What the hell, Sam. Who does that? And don’t you dare give me any of that ‘you would have done the same thing’ crap, because I know not to take it too far, okay? I know that when somebody is intent on something, it is in their best interest to listen, not dismiss the idea completely. She won’t even hear me out, Sam!”</p><p> </p><p>As a means to cease the sudden outrage, Sam sits quietly and reflects on the current situation. If it is truly as helpless as Dean makes it out to be, then it looks like he may have to be the one to step in. “Fine. I’ll talk to Anna, try to find some middle-ground. Don’t do anything stupid while I’m gone,” and with that Sam strides out of the room.</p><p> </p><p><em>Don’t do anything stupid? </em>Since when does Dean Winchester do anything stupid? More like outright nonsensical and foolishly dumb would be more accurate. True to his word, Dean proceeds to leave the premises after a few minutes of snooping around and do the dumbest thing in the history of Lawrence that he was specifically told not to do.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thankyou for reading! Feedback is much appreciated :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Quick Sabriel chapter</p>
<p>Skip if you want!!</p>
<p>I'm still unsure if I want to keep Sabriel as a running side plot to the story... it might just complicate things and I am new to writing this pairing. I'm very open to it, it's just that I'm not sure I know the characters that well in a relationship environment to be able to think of something unique for their story. </p>
<p>Therefore, this might be deleted at a later date. I just found it cute xx</p>
<p>Enjoy!! :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Sam stalks through the halls in search of the princess but to no avail he stumbles around the castle like a lost puppy. Giving up, he goes where his feet lead him, one foot after the other, head hung low and in his own subspace of conscience, lost to his thoughts. Aimlessly, he steps into the throne room when from the corner of the large palace window comes a loud hiss. Confused, Sam lifts his head as curiosity gets the better of him and he goes to investigate. The weird noise comes again, probably from behind the curtain, until he hears the call of his name. He has never heard of talking snakes before, even from the exotic trainers who all those years ago brought in animals on display for the Royal family’s entertainment that Sam had never even heard of. The harsh whisper speaks his name again, but this time commanding him to follow his words.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“psst... Prince Sam... over here... behind the curtain...” Doing as told, Sam wearily approaches the place of interest with caution as he senses the voice to be merely conversational. Adrenaline pumps through his veins as the prince slowly stalks the unknown until he gets to reaching distance and with one swift pull yanks the curtain aside to reveal the small, curled form of Prince Gabriel.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Prince Gabriel? What are you doing here?” In all honesty, Sam should be scolding him for snooping around in the throne room but at the moment he is too shocked to spit any words out.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh you know, minding my own business, getting up to mischief. My nickname ain’t the Trickster for nothin’.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Trickster? Mischief? That doesn’t explain what you’re doing behind a curtain, Prince Gabriel. I don’t even know you that well, my prince, but don’t you have other duties to attend to?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“The name’s Gabe,” the offender holds out his hand in a sign of peace and good intention. Apparently, that’s enough for one to become friends Sam thinks as he takes the warm flesh between his. “Oh and skip the formalities why don’t you, after what we’re about to do next all your princely dignity will fly out the window.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sam has a queasy feeling in his gut telling him that this is not going to go well. “And what’s that exactly?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Gabriel rolls his eyes with a retort of, “and I thought you were the clever one. We are going on a spree, Samuel. Let’s start with the stables,” and without hesitation, the small figure leaps away, like a bounding deer, leaving a stunned Sam in his wake. Looking from one side to the other, after reassuring himself that there is nobody in the room three times, he finally feels confident enough to run after Gabriel and relive the childhood fun that he hasn’t experienced with his brother in years.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>~</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>It had become severely less fun once they had over half the castle on their backs, chasing them around the palace halls like lunatics. It was also less assuring that Gabriel didn’t have a care in the world and would most likely get away with it much more easily than Sam. However, the pranking all paid off as Sam and Gabriel collapse on a stack of hay in a fit of laughter, surely hidden, having outsmarted the guards when straying off route to the stables.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Out of breath, Sam barely manages to puff out, “that was amazing. Let’s do it again!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Some other time, kiddo,” Gabriel huffs, “come on, I gotta take you home so dear old daddy won’t start worrying.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Okay, but seriously, today was fun and I would love to try it again. You know, you’re not as bad as I thought.” Sam thinks he can pay to be a bit more brutally honest with this guy, he doesn’t seem to take anything seriously and that for once might be a good thing.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Sure thing, Samantha, it’s a date,” Gabriel sings dreamily as he skips off probably in search for another poor washerwoman to dump a bucketful of water on. Sam fails not to smile as he reflects on the day’s events and swaggers away proudly, with a fond grin splitting his face. It’s safe to say that Samuel Winchester has succeeded in another mission, though this one of friendship and fun.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>We'll be back to the main plot and Destiel next... strap in, it's going to be a long haul ;)</p>
<p>It was very short so sorry to disappoint x</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. First Lesson: Stick 'em with the pointy end</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Time for a time skip!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>Castiel releases a tired sigh. Unfortunately, since the little misunderstanding that happened last week, any plans for weapons training were delayed by a whole seven days and with nothing to do, he had spent those sad, lonely hours bored out of his mind, maybe reading a book here, or sorting through his chests there, between taking visits to Anna’s bedroom too. Both understood that the time was needed to clear things up and sort them out, threaten a few people here and there to keep quiet, but by the time the week was over, they were both out of their minds, with nothing to do except hang out together, despite what others might think. It was quite frankly annoying and just wasted the time that he could have spent training already, but with the rise of the sun comes a new beginning to the day with a chance to start exercising his strength again. He just hopes that no word has reached the ranks yet. Castiel doesn’t know what he would do if he couldn’t train with Michael or worse, even at all.</p><p> </p><p>Reluctantly, Castiel rolls out of bed with a deep groan and heads over to the washing basin, ever the not –so morning person that he is. He changes into his worn, simple training underclothes; a set that he holds onto dearly, being one of the last gifts he ever received from Naomi. With the soft, tan cotton swaddling his body hinted with faint traces of lavender that remind him of Naomi and better days gone by, he heads out in search of Anna to borrow a set of her larger leathers that he could wear after breakfast, when he hopefully heads out to train. Everybody was promised new leathers upon arrival, with there being an upcoming war and all, but Castiel doesn’t think he can wait any longer to get measured for a new fit, before actually doing any training. It’s like an itch under his skin and an excitement brews below his body’s surface for finally being granted a return to the activity after being locked away in a carriage for two weeks during the long journey here and then spending another week locked away in his isolated room. As giddy as he ever can be, he prances down the castle corridors to the morning meal.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>~</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>On this particular morning, the hall is full with soldiers despite the early hour, standing, laughing and throwing food, their loud chatter filling the enclosed space. Sunlight pools in through the high windows, illuminating the castle with its early summer glory, and birds are chirping away as they take flight outside. Castiel thinks it’s a really good day for training. He thinks it might even be a good day in general, which for him comes very rarely nowadays.</p><p> </p><p>He spots Anna sitting in her usual seat and smiles when she gives a little wave. The long table is full except for the two kings and his brothers Balthazar and Gabriel, but that’s no surprise really. As soon as he settles in his chair, Anna grabs his arm wildly and to say he hasn’t seen such childish excitement in her eyes in such a long time is an understatement.</p><p> </p><p>“Cas, they’re letting us train! And I’m in charge of the female forces. Finally!” Anna squeals, and then proceeds to list off all her plans with her soldiers in the upcoming weeks.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, I think we can finally put the thousands of men to good use,” comes a voice from behind. Surprisingly, Sam comes over and perches on the free seat beside Anna, happy to keep them company since his brother is not here. Speaking of, he hasn’t seen him for quite a while, all of this past week really, but just as he finishes scanning the entire room, there the elder prince strides in, with a beautiful young girl on his arm which he recognises as his sister, Anael. Annoyed, jealousy pulls tight in Castiel’s chest as he watches the two laughing and skipping down the aisle, absorbed in each other’s world. All he can think of is what happened? How has their bond evolved so much over the last seven days? Surely he can remember the crude words put in place by Dean to describe his sister’s ‘annoying’ personality. Wearily, Sam glances his way after noticing the display before them, unusually stiff and straight postured, whilst Anna turns her knuckles white by choking her cutlery with a deadly grip. Castiel can tell just whom she wishes was chocking under her hold right now when the redhead’s fierce eyes strike the opponent before them.</p><p> </p><p>All appetite is lost when the merry pair plonks down at their end of table, much closer than any of them wish for. The remainder of breakfast is spent in complete silence, save for the giggling whispers of the new happy couple amongst the royal table. More than once he has to restrain Anna from launching the tightly clutched knife in her palms into the prince’s throat but he can’t blame her. With every passing minute he has to listen to that sickeningly sweet talk, he feels bile rise up the barricades of his throat no matter how many times he tries to swallow it down. He doesn’t want to make it obvious how much he hates it here right now... and the worst part? He doesn’t even know why. They are not at blame here, and even though he wants to curse Dean for what he implied that day, he cannot be at fault. Maybe it’s just him and Anna who are acting childish in this situation right now? Its funny how looking at this from a different perspective allows one to perceive one’s own wrong doings.</p><p> </p><p>Either way, he doesn’t feel up to waiting around here any longer, so with one swift communication to his companions, he makes it clear where his priorities lie. From the look he gets from both of them, it’s quite clear that they couldn’t agree more. Simultaneously, the party of three friends stand and quickly hurry out of the compacted hall, leaving a stunned Dean behind, who has now gone unusually quiet.</p><p> </p><p>Laughing giddily, they run through the castle’s corridors until they finally spring outside and find themselves stationed just at the entrance of the sparring yard. Heaving deeply, Sam doubles over with more laughter, almost suffocating from the exertion but more laughter just seems to burst out of him, triggering anyone in his vicinity. At least ten minutes must have passed by the time they settle down and can form coherent sentences again.</p><p> </p><p>“Wow, I am so sorry,” Sam laughs. “Ugh if only I can burn that image out of my skull-“</p><p> </p><p>“I think we are the ones who should be offering the condolences,” Anna speaks, “you’re the one with just one brother left and will inevitably have to put up with that for the rest of your life. Anyway, I think it’s time to kick some ass, let’s go.”</p><p> </p><p>“You guys go ahead. I’ll catch up with you later.”</p><p> </p><p>“You not coming, Sam?” inquires Castiel. “I thought you had to.”</p><p> </p><p>“Luckily I get away with it. You both have fun.”Sam calls over his shoulder as he turns away to walk in the other direction. <em>Huh.</em> It’s not really a surprise since Sam is highly academic and trained well in the educational field but it doesn’t stop Castiel wishing he had a friend to train with that is his age. Occasionally sparring with Michael helps a lot, but it’s strictly educational and business-like, never any jokes like he had with his friends, before the rumour got out about him. Truthfully, the harsh treatment he has received over the years have trained his heart cold for the hobby he once found enjoyable, only ever allowed to train with the siblings he trusted most, that mainly being Anna, Gabriel and sometimes Michael when he could spare some of his time, but nothing stops the longing for a friend who shares a common interest.</p><p> </p><p>Determined, Castiel follows Anna into the changing room, where a whole assortment of worn, stinking leathers can be found, some he hopes he never has to wear. On the side, he locates two piles of sturdier leathers with the royal emblem in the middle of a wooden bench, and both siblings are quick to shuffle into them, strapping each other tight. Nobody is around, the room completely barren, but despite this, they deem themselves ready and head out onto the yard anyway. Surprisingly, the yard is already partially filled up with groups of soldiers standing off at the outskirts, just waiting around because most of them had already changed before breakfast. It’s a little intimidating, not knowing any familiar faces among the crowd.</p><p> </p><p>Sadly, Anna turns to him with a shade of regret tinting her features. It is unspoken, but Castiel knows she doesn’t want to leave him as much as he doesn’t want to leave her. Quickly, Anna pulls him down into a tight hug and leaves with a speech of good luck and her hopes that the session goes well for him, as he turns back to face the sea of unknown faces.</p><p> </p><p>Reassuringly, Castiel tells himself that he can do this. The army is in dire need of Anna, just as much as they are Michael, so he cannot run off to her and disrupt her teaching time. It would look childish and unprofessional, and he doesn’t want to make their family look any worse than they might already seem.</p><p> </p><p>He doesn’t have to wait long before Michael steps out, an essence of authority about him so strong it silences any noises of talk amongst the obedient soldiers.</p><p> </p><p>“Quiet! Today is the day we can finally train! You can show me your skills, how does that sound?” An uproar of applause is enough of a positive response from them so he continues. “I want to see what level you are all at. We’ll start from the basics and progress from there. You will be working in pairs in the upcoming weeks, but no excluding, alright? Or I will hunt you down,” booms Michael’s voice, a threatening promise so deadly true that Castiel can only nod to from experience seeing him target Edenish boys in the past. “For our first activity, you are to split off and find a partner. Practise all the basic moves, stances and then the real fun begins when we actually spar and pick up the pace. Any questions?” Michael’s tone never leaves any room for argument but he asks the question nevertheless. “Alright boys, let’s go.”</p><p> </p><p>For the first half hour, he is bored stiff, only practising the correct positions and holds, retraining the muscle into contracting at all the right places and warming them up for the real deal. He is paired with a Samandriel, whom he is convinced doesn’t know how to hold a real sword, never mind swing it, but he gladly shows him how to handle the weapon correctly anyway. More than once he is convinced he feels a pair of eyes on him, but when he turns to face the crowd, it appears to be merely an illusion.</p><p> </p><p>Soon, the activity concludes with a short spar which Castiel inevitably wins despite going easy on his opponent. Usually, he would at least push his teammate a little since it is in his best interest that the men are trained up well, but what he is currently lacking is an opponent of equal or more skill. However, Michael is kept busy and only after reaching a satisfactory grin on his face does he allow the next part of their lesson to continue.</p><p> </p><p>Surely as expected, Michael halts the processions and calls out, “Right lads, time to switch it up a bit, don’t ya think? Swap partners!”</p><p> </p><p>Relief floods Castiel’s features as he thinks he finally might have a chance to train with a more skilled athlete, when large, heavy footsteps thud behind him, halting his trance. <em>Michael maybe?</em> Castiel thinks as he sways his heavy stick around with him in one fluid motion to greet his brother. However, as fate would have it, he is greeted by the unwelcome sight of the Winchester prince grinning widely like a lunatic, to Castiel’s dismay. Before Castiel has a chance to deny him, Dean gets in the first word.</p><p> </p><p>“Looks like you’re my sparring partner,” Dean states without question, looking around as everybody else seems to have already paired off together, leaving them with no choice. Castiel tries anyway.</p><p> </p><p>“If you don’t  mind, my prince, I wish to seek out my brother instead” he spits out bitterly, with special sarcastic emphasis on the vain prince’s title.</p><p> </p><p>“Now hold on there,” Dean tuts, clearly not backing down either, “Do you really want to disrupt him right now?”</p><p> </p><p>Unfortunately, the prince has a point and he’s really not up for argument right now, so Castiel resignedly huffs out an agreement. Dean looks about as giddy as a stable pony but when confronted to fight and reminded by Michael to “get on” with their training, he’s about as hopeless as a four-year-old, maybe even worse than Samandriel.</p><p> </p><p>Confusion settles on Castiel’s face as he lowers his weapon and observes his rival. Surely he must have had some training, at least knowing how to hold a sword properly? Hesitantly, Castiel makes sure anyway and speaks, “You’re holding your weapon wrong.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh really? I thought...” Dean says, pouting at the stick in his hand like the object has personally offended him. He is either an extremely talented actor or he genuinely doesn’t know how to hold a sword. Hesitantly, Dean finishes his sentence with a quiet, “could you show me?”</p><p> </p><p>And to say Cas thought he had everything under control is laughable. Now it’s just becoming a much stranger day by the hour, and even more confusing is Dean’s behaviour. Why won’t he just quit his efforts? If Dean isn’t giving in then Castiel certainly won’t give in either.</p><p> </p><p>“No. As a matter of fact I fully believe you to be fully capable of holding and swinging your own sword, if any of the stories are even half true. I am no fool, Dean.”</p><p> </p><p>“But you helped Samandriel,” Dean protests, “Can’t we just talk, Cas?”</p><p> </p><p>“I can’t think of anything important that we would need to talk about. Now, pick up your sword.”</p><p> </p><p>Reluctantly, Dean’s sagging posture slowly melts into the correct stance. So he does know how to fight – great, what a waste of time. Patience is running thin with him right now, so he initiates the first strike, which to no surprise, Dean blocks skillfully without batting an eyelash.</p><p> </p><p>“Look Cas, I’m sorry, alright? I thought Anael had already told you,” Dean’s words are meek and vulnerable, completely exposing the man before him, but Cas just retaliates with harder strikes.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh right, you mean the girl you are taking to bed? No, it doesn’t look like she told me anything, in fact I don’t recall her speaking to me at all, of course being too busy with your antics,” he spits out the vile syllables like poison.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s not what it looks like.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh really? So tell me and the rest of the court what it does look like then because we aren’t blind, that’s for certain-“</p><p> </p><p>“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you, Cas. I’ve been trying to get you alone because no matter how hard I try I can’t get past Anna, she won’t let me talk to you or her for that matter. Please, hear me out.” If they weren’t currently occupied with the activity, it wouldn’t be hard to imagine Dean begging on his knees. With a strained grunt, Cas lowers his weapon, a general consensus for Dean to continue  making his point. “Alright, so you’ve probably already heard my apology but I’m sorry, I truly am. I was wrong to have made that assumption and I see that now. I went to your sister Anael and she said she would pass it on for me, my apology that is, but I guess I should have known better. And there is nothing between us for that matter.”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, you two were sure close this morning.”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s because she gets me, man. I dunno but she has sort of changed since our first encounter. No more talk about just her and she’s actually interested in what I like to do.” Suddenly, Dean’s tone changes to one more icy and closed off, “Anyway, why am I telling you this? It’s quite frankly none of your business what our relationship is like.”</p><p> </p><p>"But-"</p><p> </p><p>"I said I don't want to hear it, <strong>my prince,</strong>" he snarls, now a vicious dog poised for attack.</p><p> </p><p>Lifting his weapon high into the air, his strong, thick muscles wield the sword in a rapid, sharp blow, landing heavily on Castiel’s forearm. Unprepared, Castiel reels back in mesmerised fascination. Gape in awe is all he can do as the prince delivers blow after blow to the cobblestones just inches beside Castiel’s laying form. Clashing wood with stone resounds throughout the open space, splintering into Castiel’s face and Dean’s arm melds as one with the sword as he thrusts into the ground with ultimate precision, enough to scare Castiel into freezing up. He doesn’t stop until he is heaving gulps of air, shoulders running in an up and downwards motion and wiping sweat off his brow. It seems as though everybody else is in just as much shock as Castiel, having stopped practising to witness the awesome display of aptness and power presented by the infamous prince. Not a word is breathed as silence envelopes the once noisy yard and the pair of princes are the center of attention again as all eyes turn to those responsible. Unfortunately, that also means attracting the attention of Michael who hurriedly steps through the gathering crowd, and Castiel battles with the thought of whether this is a blessing or a curse.</p><p> </p><p>“I think that’s enough for today,” Michael says carefully, eyeing the two princes suspiciously, “go get changed boys.”</p><p> </p><p>A plural groan resounds throughout the crowd as the men put away their sticks and pack up their uniforms, heading away from the place of conflict, casting gloomy looks his way in the process. Of course he is going to be the one to blame, he shouldn’t have expected anything less. Slowly, he tries getting up but accidentally slips and leans his weight on the bruised arm. He should be lucky it’s not broken, although it does feel kind of funny. He will probably check up on it later just in case. Dean doesn’t so much as glance anybody’s way as he angrily stomps away towards the castle.</p><p> </p><p><em>That sure was interesting.</em> In truth, it all happened far too quickly for him to fully register what was going on. One minute he was talking to Dean and the next he is stricken to the floor. Before he has a chance to piece together the flurry of memories, a certain redhead plonks down beside him.</p><p> </p><p>“Did you seriously just get your ass kicked? Or did you just feel sorry for them and let them win? Either way, you better start explaining why I now have to pick you up off the floor. I was going to stop by and say hello, you know make sure you aren’t standing off to the side like a loner, but I’m certain Michael wouldn’t let that happen anyway. I had a spare minute but as soon as I get here, you boys are packing up early, so what happened? You guys set your sticks aflame again in all that feistiness you all got piled up in there or what?” Anna lists off in one breath.</p><p> </p><p>“Actually, Dean happened.” Already sensing the rise in anger building behind Anna’s eyes, he quickly diffuses the flame. “He just showed his potential I guess. You could say he’s a future rival,” Castiel shrugs off bitterly. Anna listens intently to the vague description of events which she lets slide for now, surely going to interrogate him later about it, and heaves his body up off the ground, catching his bruised arm. Despite trying his hardest not to reveal his pain, Anna still sees through the slight wince he allows himself to show.</p><p> </p><p>“Castiel Novak of Eden you are to tell me what happened right now,” Anna’s simmering rage slowly boils to steaming temperatures once again. “Was it the prince? Because I swear-“</p><p> </p><p>“It’s probably just bruised. I promise I’ll get it checked out later. Can we just get inside now?” Cas rushes out quickly in one breath, in all hope that he can soothe the storm. He is lacking the energy to deal with any more problems right now, all the more he should just take Anna inside and escape from the world for a few minutes.</p><p> </p><p>Understanding, Anna lifts her brother gently by the other arm and guides them towards their respectful rooms, slowly progressing through the long castle corridors. Once the tiresome journey has lead them to the comfort of their chambers, Cas gladly peels off the tight leathers but keeps the tan outfit on, mindful to keep it clean throughout the meal as it is his favourite. <em>That’s right, the dreaded meal</em>, Cas reminds himself, as awful scenarios of what could go wrong flash through his mind. There are only two options here, either he goes to dinner and gets it over and done with, or he opts to eat in his room but just about everybody will start discussing why he is missing because they never have anything else to talk about. It’s safest to go with the first option. Reluctantly, Castiel flops down onto the springy bed as he waits for the slow hours to pass by.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>~</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>The awful hour has arrived and Castiel feels restless despite taking an unintentional nap for a few hours. Reluctance weighs down his heavy limbs as he shuffles through his room in search of the other pair of black boots that are never found muddy and reserved for these special occasions, when Castiel cannot be bothered making an appealing appearance and decides to go to events dressed in his training clothes. It’s become an everyday outfit for him really, so the Winchester family really shouldn’t be expecting anything else. Why should he be bothered what outfit he graces their presence in anyway? Surely he will melt into the background walls soon enough. <em>He could disappear for days and nobody will notice</em>, he bets. It’s not like anybody cares about his opinion or actually wants to talk to him other than out of pity or they have been told they have to out of courtesy.</p><p> </p><p>Signing his soul off to his fate, Castiel timidly steps out of the solace of his warm, comforting shelter, rolling his sleeves up with some difficulty to better prepare himself for the moment as he heads down toward the common hall. Fate seems to have other plans since as soon as his shiny boots make contact with the surface of the corridor floors, he immediately regrets his decision. There, leaning lazily against the furthest wall from him is the older Winchester Prince, probably waiting for Anael, but eye contact never severing ties with him, which only seems to heighten Castiel’s panic. Wearily, Castiel turns around to shut the door at a loss of what to do, but those green eyes still lay upon him, he can feel them trailing down his back. Should he say hello? Should he confront him about what happened this afternoon? No, it’s been made quite clear that he doesn’t want anything to do with him, which shouldn’t hurt as much as it does. He should be used to the rejection by now, having suffered through it pretty much all his life. However when he looks back to the standing figure, the green orbs are focused not on his face but rather lower down, and he really shouldn’t be getting curious but upon closer inspection of the situation, Dean’s looking at his right arm specifically. Uncomfortable, Castiel shifts under the scrutiny, unable to figure out why as confusion clouds his face, until those clouds clear to reveal the reason, suddenly hitting him with the forceful impact of realisation. Dean is seeing his doing; the mauled mess of purpling, swelling skin in a neat patch just below the bend of his elbow. Surely he knows what a sword wielded at that power can do? Did he not think it would cause any damage? <em>Enough</em>, he tells himself, <em>he doesn’t care anyway</em>. Resolutely, he angles his body and walks away in the opposite direction, leaving the waiting Prince behind in the cold, bitter anonymity of regret.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>~</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>A moody storm circles above his head, putting him in a frosty mood all throughout the meal, so much so that nearly everybody close enough to know him personally at least notices. Once he got here, everybody sits in perfect replica of the first night, and he’s situated between Anna and Gabriel, but they seem to get the idea pretty quickly and leave him alone. Tonight he has enough to put up with all of the staring eyes, without having to fake a front for everyone, so he’s glad to be sitting close to the most trustworthy people in his life, even if he isn’t up for talking much. He broods in silence as he ponders whether the staring is coming from what they have heard of a few hours ago or just in general. At least he knows for a fact that it can’t be because of his arm, since that’s covered up well with his sleeve, and he can feign the pain to a certain extent. That is until the food arrives and he can’t even pick up the damn knife.</p><p> </p><p>Being the solitary, stubborn man that he is who never asks for any help, he struggles in silence for a while until Anna notices and discreetly helps him grip the utensils, even if the numbness prevents him from a proper hold. After all, he needs both hands to use the cutlery in the proper royal fashion, and he wouldn’t want to lower his reputation more than it already is, with acting like the common folk, or worse eating with his one other hand, which would be plain shameful. He is a royal after all.</p><p> </p><p>He can only manage five bites despite going extremely slow, and the additional strain on his tendons cause the pain to return in crashing waves of agony onto the swelling area, much stronger than before, so he decides to just give up now before he damages it any more.</p><p> </p><p>The rest of the meal goes pretty quickly. He actually engages in conversation in all attempts to forget about the pain but they fall weak and he has to dismiss himself early. Retiring early means that he can get a head start on training tomorrow at sunrise and maybe even have time to check his nuisance arm up before training starts.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Stalking through the halls, he finally stumbles to his door, when the one adjacent opens, revealing a young, blonde fellow, tall and lean, stumbling out in front of a giggling Anael. He can’t be more than a stable boy, so how he got in here he has no clue. Neither had he any clue that Anael had left the meal, but then again, he currently isn’t in the right head-space to pay attention to anything, really. Lurking quietly in the shadows, Castiel watches the display a little longer, and it looks like he successfully hasn’t been spotted yet by the pair, so he refrains from entering his room just a little while longer, despite how much he wants to sink into that soft mattress. He has a few words to tell Anael anyway.</p><p> </p><p>The striking youth leaves with a low bow and a kiss to her knuckles, such a gentleman, to which Castiel can only roll his eyes at the display of affection. <em>Seriously Anael? It has only been one night. New record. </em>He can only hope that she doesn’t charm the whole castle. <em>Don’t make it a goal.</em></p><p> </p><p>Finally, with the youth gone, he approaches Anael, fully aware of what may be going on here. Finally, she seems to awaken from her trance and gasps at finding her brother just a few feet away, seemingly having witnessed their departure. Resignedly, she huffs and invites him into her room, knowing that there is no escaping the questioning that is sure yet to come.</p><p> </p><p>Only once the heavy oak door shuts tightly, like a wax seal, engulfing their secrets within, does he approach the topic of conversation.</p><p> </p><p>“Who was that?” he asks simply. He doesn’t really care much for his sister’s extracurricular activities, and he could probably guess the boy’s line of employment, but he’s just curious as to what happened to the Winchester prince.</p><p> </p><p>“Nobody...” Anael starts, but after seeing the harsh, questioning look he gives her, she resigns to just telling the truth. “Okay, fine, he’s one of the stable boys, but you cannot tell anybody. Promise me, Cas.” She wears a hopeless look of despair and her eyes shine in the candlelight. Cas knows that at weak times like these, when she feels the most vulnerable, his sister often spills too much information, so he keeps quiet. He may just feel a slight pang of empathy and guilt for using her like this to get information, if he wasn’t so curious about the situation himself.</p><p> </p><p>“Look, I know it’s wrong, but you can’t stop me from seeing him. And don’t tell father,” she begs, “I’ll do anything just to keep him in the dark.” Quietly, she adds as an afterthought, “He’s just a friend anyway.”</p><p> </p><p>“Not for long,” he mutters under his breath, equally as quietly. Anael must not have heard his response or is just used to his silence, so she rambles on, “He’s just so sweet. He’s perfect, but daddy would never allow me anywhere near him, so he mustn’t know. What do you want? I’ll give you anything, just please don’t tell him,” she cries, defeated to begging. Cas ignores her.</p><p> </p><p> “What happened to you and the prince? You seemed inseparable this morning.”</p><p> </p><p>At that, her face falls, dumbstruck that her plans weren’t so secretive after all, before a sly smirk curls her lips upwards.</p><p> </p><p>“Well, let’s just say my best girlfriends helped me out a bit with that one.” Cas’ face contorts into a look of confusion, wrinkling further and tilting to the side, the more she speaks. “They taught me a lesson or two,” she continues, “and since most are Lawrencians themselves and grew up with him, they know a bit about his personality. You know, his likes and dislikes,” Anael adds at the end, like it would clear his face of perplexion.</p><p> </p><p>Anael rolls her eyes. “If you must know, it means I’m getting taught how to get him to like me, so that our Kingdoms may be joined forever in peace through our union.” Finally, Cas seems to give a reaction, letting out a gasp as it dawns on his face. “Oh don’t act surprised. You always knew it was going to end up like this. Dear daddy selling me to some rich prince from a faraway land. Look at the upside, it could’ve been a really old man,” Anael adds in a hopeful tone, wishing the words can improve the situation. Cas can only shake his head in disappointment.</p><p> </p><p>“Annie,” he speaks sincerely, “do you mean to tell me you are getting lessons on how to court the prince and get him to marry you against his will?”</p><p> </p><p>Anael’s lips purse into a tight line, clearly without a plausible answer. Cas doesn’t think he will much enjoy anything else that comes out of her mouth anyway. Suddenly, Castiel feels sick to the stomach.</p><p> </p><p>“What are you going to do when he finds out that you have been lying to him all this time? When he finally uncovers the real you behind all the layers of lies you tell every day?” The words are harsh with the intention to hurt, but it’s the truth. She needs to see how toxic her little cunning plan is, and that if the secret ever gets out, this royal environment is far from forgiving.</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t worry, I’m sure it will be far too late to do anything about it at that point. Though it’s also highly encouraged by Mrs Tran, so in any case, I can’t be in the wrong, can I? Don’t you think it’s a great idea?”</p><p> </p><p>“You’re cruel, did you know that?”</p><p> </p><p>“No, I’m just an excellent businesswoman who knows how to take advantage of an opportunity when I see one.” She winks and turns towards the door, ready to walk her brother out, her confidence so profound, that it renders Cas silent. At least she has been taught well on the negociative side of things, he thinks and can’t help being both frustrated and utterly impressed.</p><p> </p><p>Just as her thin, slender fingers brush the intricate door handle, she falters and looks back at her brother, no hint of remorse under those long, batting eyelashes, “oh and just so you know, if a word gets out beyond these walls, you and Anna will be sleeping together in the eyes of the public. And let's just say I won’t be there to pick you up from such a fall and neither will there be anyone else,” she adds sweetly as a wide, innocent grin stretches her perfect, porcelain skin.</p><p> </p><p><em>Damn it!</em> Of course she found out about their misunderstanding a week ago. Knowing his sister well, she probably bribed someone for the latest castle gossip or information. She is an excellent businesswoman after all. Or it could have been Dean, which just serves to prove that he should trust him even less.</p><p> </p><p>Mentally cursing himself, he allows himself to be nudged out of the room, no longer a welcome presence, before the sweet smile of the innocent girl slams the heavy door closed behind him, contrary to what her fake persona would lead him to believe. Huffing a sigh, he resigns to retreating to bed and hopefully sleeping the day’s events away in his sanctuary, stress already gnawing away at the insides of his skull. He mustn’t afford to worry about little debates like these, for the better to train clear-headed. Hell, he does it all the time because even his own family don’t trust him at all, . But as he sinks under the soft, warm sheets of his bed that night, his dear sister’s truthful words keep him awake until the early hours of the next day, as he replays them over and over again in his mind.</p><p> </p><p>Had she meant that? Will she keep seeing that boy? They can get into deep trouble with the royal family if they ever find out. Does she really think she can get away with it? Either way, it’s for the better if he doesn’t tell anyone for his own sake, and just pretends like he never payed her a visit that night. A few more straggling thoughts keep his mind occupied for a couple more hours until his eyes finally close from exhaustion, and this time, they give up to the enclosing devoid of darkness, knocking him out as the sun rises early on the horizon.</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>If you haven't noticed already, it's a REALLY slow burn, so....</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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